NOTES 

OF 

A RESIDENCE AT ROME, 

m 184C. 



BY A PROTESTANT CLERGYMAN, 
REV. M. VICARY, B.A. 



< 

LONDON: 

RICHARD BBNTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET, 

1847. 



LONDON : 

1 riiilc'l by S. f<. J. Hkintlky, Wilson, and Klky, 
Jlimgor House, Shoe Ljiuc. 



OS 



,6 V 



CONTENTS, 



CHAPTER I. 

PAGE 

The Mediterranean. — Genoa. — Leghorn. — Elba. — Approach 
to Rome. — Design of the Work. — Appearance of the City. — 
Churches. — Jealous Policy of the Government. — Description of 
the Churches. — Their Ornaments. — Relics 1 

CHAPTER II. 

Churches. — The Dome. — Its Paintings. — Monuments. — Ple- 
naria Indulgentia. — Its Tendencyand Consequences. — Description 
of St, Peter's. — Bronze Statue of St. Peter. — Dimensions of the 
Church. — Basilica of St. John Lateran. — Its Relics. — The Pan- 
theon. — Is preserved entire. . . . . , . ,18 

CHAPTER III. 

The Clergy, secular and regular. — Are very numerous, and 
destined to the Church from Childhood. — The Cardinals. — Gal= 
lery of Cardinal Fesch. — Mode of electing the Pope. — State of 
our Relations with Rome. — Inquiry concerning the Habit of the 
Cardinal. — Bishops. — Monsignores. . . . . .43 

CHAPTER IV. 

Cardinal Lambruschini. — Cardinal Mikara. — The regular 
Clergy. — Dominicans and Jesuits. — Their Activity and Zeal.— 
Capuchins and Franciscans. — Convents.— Other Orders.— Nuns 
and Nunneries. ......... 62 



CONTENTS. 



CIIAPTEl^ V. 

Ccreinouies at St. Peter's, — Their EiFects. — Christmas. — Pro- 
cession. — Gregory XVI — Giiardia Nobile. — Temporal and spi- 
ritual Character of the Pope. — Papal Benediction. . . .82 



CHAPTER VI. 

Ceremonies at Easter. — The Pope receives the Eucharist 
sitting. — Elevation of the Host. — The Pope blesses the People 
from the Balcony of St. Peter's. — Church of the Augustines. — 
Statue of the Virgin. — Is much celebrated. — Its Offerings. . 101 

CHAPTER VII. 

Procession of the Circumcision. — Espositione della Santa Vir- 
gine. — Clerical Converts. — Probable Origin of the Procession. — 
Procession of the Host. . . . . . . . .117 



CHAPTER VIIL 

Paintings: Subjects chiefly Sacred. — St. Anthony preaching 
to the Fishes. — Picture of St. Denis. — The Sistine Chapel. — The 
" Last Judgment." — The Miserere. . . , . .133 

CHAPTER IX. 

Adorazione della Vera Croce. — The Spear. — The Nails. — The 
Crucifixion. — The Sudario. — State of Religion at Rome. — -Her 
l*rospects. — Adoration of Relics. — Relics, Indian and Egyptian. 
— Absurdity of the Practice. . . . . . .149 

CHAPTER X. 

Relics continued. — Observations on. — St. ApoUonia. — St. 
SU'inislaus. — Portable Relic. — Scahe Sanct.nc : Remarks concern- 
iiitr.— St. Raiiicri, Pisa.— Santa C]ar;i 1()3 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER XL 

Respect to the Virgin.- — Her Altars and Pictures. — Inscrip- 
tions. — Worsiiip of the Virgin. — Miraculous Conversion of a 
Jew at the Church of St. Andrea del Trate. — Bronze Statue of 
the Virgin near the Church of Santa Maria Maggiore. — 11 Volto 
Santo, . . . . , , . . . .183 



CHAPTER XII. 

Burial of the Dead. — Obsequies. — Mortalit}' Societies.— 
Monuments.— Inscriptions. — Chapel of the Capuchins. — Italian 
Cemeteries. — English Burial- Ground. . , . . .199 



CHAPTER XIII. 

Palaces of the Pope. — The Vatican. — The Lateran Palace. — 
The Quirinal. — Prisons. — Populace of Rome. — State of the 
Country. — Its Policy. . . . . . . . ,213 



CHAPTER XIV. 

English Church. — Toleration.^ — Contrast between Tuscany and 
Rome. — Colleges. — College of the Propagation of the Faith. — - 
English, Irish, and Scotch Colleges. — Ghetto. — State of the Jews. 227 

CHAPTER XV. 

Ordination at St. John Lateran 's. — Ceremonies. — Festa di St. 
Giuseppe. — Lives of the Apostles. — Figures and Frescoes.— 
Church at Lucca. — Costume. --Picture expressive of the Power 
of the Virgin. = 249 



CHAPTER XVL 



The Colosseum. — Its Extent.—Is consecrated.— Illumination 
of St. Peter's. 266 



vi 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

CHAPTER XVIL 

Castle of St. Angelo. — II Girandola. — Object of public Repre- 
sontntioiis. — The Carnival 282 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

Modem Rome. — Population of Ancient Rome. — Malaria. — 
Pincian Hill. — The Corso. — Palaces. — Egyptian Obelisks. — Os- 
tentation of the Popes. — Markets. — Fountains. — The Tiber. — 
The Capitol. — Forum. — Arch of Constantine. — Arch of Titus. — 
Temples. — Convents. — Concluding Qbsen-ations. . . . 295 



NOTES 

OF 

A RESIDENCE AT ROME. 



CHAPTER I. 

THE MEDITERRANEAN. — GENOA. — LEGHORN. — ELBA. APPROACH 

TO. ROME. — DESIGN OP THE WORK. — APPEARANCE OF THE CITY. 
— CHURCHES. — JEALOUS POLICY OP THE GOVERNMENT. DE- 
SCRIPTION OP THE CHURCHES. THEIR ORNAMENTS.— RELICS. 

After the long and harassing journey through 
France, the monotonous scenery of which suppUes 
but little to relieve the tediousness of the way, — 
where the reminiscences are not of romantic beauty, 
but of diUgences, hotels, and dishonest bills, — how 
delightful it is to find oneself upon the blue Medi- 
terranean, with a sky above us that tells we are 
fast approaching the sweet south ! The moment 
we leave Marseilles we enter into a new world ; 
and the prospect from the quarter-deck of the 
steamer, of rocky islets and the receding mainland, 

B 



5 



THE MEDITERRANEAN. 



with its villas, castles, and convents, almost repays 
the toil we have already undergone. 

As " II Ercolano " advances with a rapid pace, 
and cleaves the waters, leaving far behind her 
track of foam, we discern some of the peaks of 
the hills of France, or enter upon that uninterest- 
ing part of the Continent where the Rhone pays 
its tribute to the ocean. But even now the barks 
plying along, some lazily with the oar, and others 
with crowded canvas, contribute to keep attention 
alive. 

Night soon calls us to the cabin, where our 
associates are some of the elite of old England; 
all wending their way to exchange the murky days 
and biting winds of their northern clime, for the 
brilliant sunshine and flowery land of Italy. Our 
steamer was a credit to the enterprising Neapolitan 
company ; nothing could exceed the accommodation 
and attention to be met with on board. If any of 
my countrymen evince a regard for comfort and 
cleanliness I should recommend before all others 
the " Ercolano they will have cause to be thank- 
ful for the suggestion. " Credits experto'^ 

" Will you pass the Alps without a look ?" says 
a fellow-passenger, as the awaking morn rolled 
back the mists from the water, and the clouds that 



GENOA, 



3 



lay heavily upon the headlands. What a glorious 
sight! the spirit becomes elevated, and rises far 
above itself, as it contemplates these " palaces of 
nature." Rugged and bare as they are, caught by 
the eye, as far as it can reach, until they descend 
into the ocean, piled one upon the other until they 
end in clouds, they discover to those accustomed 
to the lowlands of Britain unequalled views of mag- 
nificence and grandeur. The Alp and Apennine 
vary much in their characteristic scenery. The 
former mount into the clouds, and seem, like an- 
other Atlas, to bear the weight of the heavens ; 
but the Apennines, whose feet are also washed by 
the wave, shoot up like the pinnacles of an eastern 
temple, tapering to points of wondrous symmetry 
and elegance. To the "hoar Alp" Nature gave 
boldness and sublimity, while she seems to have 
reared " the lofty Apennine'' with a greater regard 
to finish and effect. 

The glimpse of Genoa is unrivalled. It is a 
circle of beauty. Palaces and gardens, churches, 
towers, and terraces, meet the eye in every quarter. 
The town is built upon a descent, and the houses 
and streets are consequently seen to the utmost 
advantage. As the genial sun of November shed 
its cheering light upon the panorama before me, 

B 2 



4 



LEGHORN. — ELBA. 



I shall never forget how the lovely scene was 
heightened by a musician coming silently under 
the stern, and joining with his melodious voice 
the soft tones of his guitar. The united influence 
upon me was that of calmness and repose, much 
needed after a fortnight's fatigue. All told me that 
I had come to a land of beauty and pleasure — to 
another Calypso's isle. Though some time has 
elapsed, I almost hear that music still. The 
impression it made was indelible. It was our 
welcome to the south. 

Leghorn, or, as the natives call it, Livorno, has 
little to attract notice, save that it is a well-built 
town and a flourishing port. What we could see 
of Tuscany from the neighbourhood shewed a 
highly cultivated country and a contented people. 
The place is, however, uninteresting, lying low, 
and having no objects to cause a moment's delay 
to the tourist. 

Elba is passed. It was night, and we could only 
discern the high land standing in relief against the 
moonless sky. With what interest Napoleon has 
invested every place connected with his extra- 
ordinary career ! As long as we could catch a 
glimpse of the dark form of the island, every eye 
was bent towards it. Once a small unnoticed spot. 



CIVITA VECCHIA. 5 

the prestige of his name has connected it for the 
future and for ever with fame. 

We are at length in the dominions of the Pope, 
safely moored at Civita Vecchia. It is a small but 
good harbour, however nothing in the way of trade 
seems to be going on. I should have expected 
otherwise, but I do believe that her commerce is 
paralysed by the unenterprising, sluggish spirit 
which marks everything in the States of the 
Church. The method of keeping time, by which 
the inhabitants make themselves ridiculous, is one 
of the peculiarities of the place.* The town is 
small, and contains no objects worthy of note. 
" The waveless sea" stretches on both sides as far 
as the eye can wander, and, except a few fishers' 
barques, bears nothing on its bosom to add interest 
to the scene. 

The distance to Rome is not long, and a few 
hours on a road paved by the old Romans brings 
you to the walls of the Eternal City. What asso- 
ciations are evoked when one is about to enter the 
capital of the great commonwealth, which for so 

* In the States of the Church the day is not divided, as with us, 
into two intervals of twelve hours. Their time runs on to twenty-four 
hours; so that the stranger is at first a little perplexed, when asking, 
" II tempo di giorno," to have some such answer as the following : 
" Tredice," or, as it might happen, " Vente tre et mezza." 



6 



APPROACH TO ROME. 



long a period was mistress of the world. The 
halo that surrounds her history receives new 
brightness, by which every page vividly returns to 
the mind. The deathless names with which every 
era of her existence abounded, winning their 
fame in the field or the forum, rise before us. We 
cannot forget that we tread the scene of the peace- 
ful triumphs of a Horace or a Virgil, as well as that 
once cumbered with the ruthless spoils of a Titus 
or a Caesar. The very soil seems sacred ; and we 
tread the stones that resound to our footsteps, with 
something of the same feeling, but vastly more 
absorbing and intense, with which w^e walk the 
eloquent churchyard. It is the land which Scipio 
covered with laurels, and which contains his ashes ; 
which gave birth to Cato, and still 

"breathes — burns with Cicero." 

We come, as it were, to do homage to these great 
names, and to bend over those tombs, whose lone 
occupants have made the place the first in gal- 
lantry and glory — " the city of the soul." Such 
are the reflections that rise as we cross the Ponte 
di S. Angelo, with the Tiber flowing beneath, and 
enter the modern city. 

It is not my purpose, as it would be useless, to 
describe the majestic ruins which are scattered in 



DESIGN OF THIS WORK. 



7 



profusion around. They have had many pens in 
poetry and prose, which describe them faithfully, 
and leave no detail untouched. Winckelmann will 
tell you of their antiquity, while Byron invests 
with all the graces of sentiment and feeling these 
noble monuments of a noble race : — 

" Out upon time, for 't will leave no more 
Of the things that come than the things before ; 
Out upon time, for for ever 't will leave 
But enough of the past for the future to grieve." 

I hasten to another subject, to which my atten- 
tion was directed during a considerable sojourn at 
Rome, namely, the church, government, and cere- 
monies. Modern Rome, as the city of the Popes 
and the capital of the Catholic Church, receives 
almost as much interest as the old city did from her 
deeds of arms. It is the busy hive which has 
for centuries sent forth her missionaries to accom- 
plish her religious or political purposes ; and her 
triumphs have been often as signal and as san- 
guinary. It is the capacious nest where those 
" Orders" have been hatched, which have enacted 
a conspicuous part in the history of Europe, — the 
Dominicans and Jesuits, — names as much given to 
fame as the philosophic sects of old. At the 
present time, also, when the Church of England 



8 



APPEARANCE OF THE CITY. 



has been assailed, and deserted by some of those 
who should have built her up, a glance at the 
interior of the Roman Catholic institution may not 
be unacceptable or without its use. 

Upon entering the Eternal City nothing is so 
striking as the number of churches, which are suc- 
cessively exposed to the eye of the traveller. 
Enter at what gate you may, (and Rome in this 
particular is almost a second Thebes,) and almost 
the first object that is sure to attract your notice 
is a church, placed probably in such a locality to 
remind the traveller that he is arrived within the 
city of the Church — the renowned capital of the 
Supreme Pontiff. As you enter the Porta del Po- 
polo from the north, immediately within, to the 
left, you pass the handsome edifice dedicated to 
Santa Maria ; and within two hundred yards, oppo- 
site, you gaze at two exactly similar and uniform 
churches, each terminating the angle of two streets 
running in the direction of the gate; the Via Ri- 
petta and Via del Corso. If you pass from Mar- 
seilles by the Mediterranean, and stand first on 
the sunny south at Civita Vecchia, as you enter 
Rome by the Vecchia gate, the stately temple of 
St. Peter's, with its magnificent colonnades and 
aerial dome, bursts upon the view. The gate of 



CHURCHES. 9 
St. John Lateran leads you at once to the superb 
cathedral of that name. The first edifices you en- 
counter from the Porto Lorenzo, upon traversing 
the now unfrequented part of the road until you 
enter the modern city, are churches — so perfect a 
holy land is this, were you to judge from appear- 
ances. But this is not all; as you diverge from 
the gates, and go further into the city, a church 
meets you at about every two hundred yards. 
The number consequently is very great, greater 
than that of any other city in the world. 

I have been assured that there are three hundred 
churches ; and a priest, whose acquaintance I made, 
informed me, that, were it necessary "to perform 
mass" at a new church every day in the year, it could 
be done without any difficulty. He added, no doubt, 
to the parochial and public churches and basilicas, 
the chapels of the convents and palaces, hardly any 
of which can be called private. Although the Roman 
calendar is large, it may seem a matter of some 
difficulty to find fresh saints, who should have 
the honour of each church's dedication. But the 
matter is easily managed ; the same saint presides 
over several, the name only has some variation or 
adjunct. Thus we find churches " di Santa 
Maria," to " Santa Maria en Trastevere others 

B 5 



10 CATHEDRAL OF ST. PAUL. 



dedicated to St. Peter, again to " San Pietro in 
Vincoli." 

It is indeed the land of churches, as well as of 
the Church. All the resources of the Papal govern- 
ment are directed to the building and keeping in 
repair their houses of worship. Instead of pro- 
viding for the maintenance and well-being of the 
poor, or promoting objects which may have in view 
the improvement of the country and the develop- 
ment of its great resources, any money that may 
abound in the exchequer is invariably expended in 
this ecclesiastical mania. As an instance of this, 
for the last few years, a cathedral, only inferior in 
dimensions and design to the great monument of 
Michael Angelo's skill, has been building with 
great activity, — that of San Paolo, on the Via Ostia. 
The expenditure upon this is enormous, the build- 
ing being coated with the richest marble ; and the 
mosaics, paintings, and statues, which profusely 
decorate the interior, are of a high order, so that 
it has been found necessary to let funds for the 
purpose accumulate, and to carry on the work only 
by degrees. The funds which are thus uselessly 
bestowed might with much greater wisdom be ap- 
plied to objects of undoubted utility. To improve 
the navigation of the Tiber from Rome to Ostia, 



JEALOUSY OF THE GOVERNMENT. H 



would be productive of the greatest prosperity to 
both these cities. That classic river is only 
navigable for boats of about twenty tons burden, 
and has evidently disimproved from the times the 
Caesars bore upon its waters the ponderous spoils 
of Egypt. A railroad, also, from Civita Vecchia, a 
distance of forty miles, could easily and expedi- 
tiously convey merchandise and passengers from 
that excellent port. This would be a national benefit, 
and would, without contradiction, steadily and to 
a large extent increase the revenue. These sub- 
jects have been brought under the notice of go- 
vernment, but, from the peculiar shortsightedness 
and narrow views which have ever characterised 
the measures of the Papal executive, they have 
been either postponed or abandoned. The reason of 
which is evident : the march of improvement,* and 
the general change in the minds of men and 
things which have strongly marked the last quarter 
of a century, have been viewed with jealousy and 
alarm by the occupants of the Vatican. They fear, 
and perhaps not without foundation, that the ele- 
ments of change and innovation, which have been 
working amidst society, — in commerce, science, and 
literature, would, if they were suffered to approach 

* These remarks apply chiefly to the late government. 



12 JEALOUSY OF THE GOVERNMENT. 

the Roman capital, be at once transferred to the 
religious system, which, enthroned here, as a great 
heart, sends forth its streams to so large a portion 
of the world. Their strength consists in " resisting 
change ; " and they are but too well aware, that, if 
its influences were but once permitted to operate, 
the religion of Rome, with its mitred prince, and 
all the proud superstructure which has held in vas- 
salage for ages both the minds and bodies of men, 
would run the hazard of crumbling to the dust. 

The method of expending the revenues of the 
state, to which I have alluded, might be defended, 
nevertheless, if the wants of the people required 
those churches, and it was clear those at present 
existing in the city were incapable of accommodating 
their numbers. But the state of things there, is, as 
we have seen, quite adverse to such a proposition. 
Fifty of the churches of Rome would be more 
than sufficient to aflFord every convenience, and 
supply all spiritual necessity. 

With the exception of the older basilicas, and 
including chiefly the beautiful structures of St. 
Peter's and St. John Lateran, the religious edi- 
fices of Rome, viewed from the exterior, quite 
disappoint the beholder. They are, in general, 
exceedingly plain, and almost devoid of ornament. 



DESCRIPTION OF THE CHURCHES. 13 



The rich Gothic ornament, which we meet in the 
older abbeys and cathedrals of the British isles, 
is totally wanting. The lofty tower, or the taper- 
ing spire, has never found favour with the Italian 
architect. Those exquisitely carved windows, serv- 
ing so well to admit " the dim religious light " 
upon the sacred aisles, are not to be found. The 
delicate tracery — the elaborate care which has been 
bestowed upon the French cathedrals, picturesque 
as it is in the extreme, and captivating to the eye, 
has never found its way to the city of the Popes. 
Upon a plain front there are inscriptions declaring 
the saint to whom the edifice is dedicated, and 
perhaps, also, the name of the pious builder. An 
unpretending cross upon the summit only pro- 
claims its sanctity. But when we open the hang- 
ing door, and step within, the scene is altogether 
changed. We pass as it were from a wilderness 
to a garden — from our cold world into fairy-land. 
A large hall, supported upon marble pillars,— the 
purest and most valuable from the hills of Greece, — 
terminating in a raised altar, formed with exquisite 
taste, of the richest materials, opens upon the 
view. Statues, the works of the most eminent 
artists, repose in profusion around; any one of 
which would be the wonder of the collection of 



14 DESCRIPTION OF THE CHURCHES; 

any of our nobility. The walls are covered with 
paintings, representing Scripture pieces, or the 
legends of saints, beautiful in execution and im- 
posing in effect. They are the efforts of immortal 
names. Raphael, Guido, Annibale Carracci, Carlo 
Dolce, Guercino, are soon and easily recognised. 
Some of the noblest productions of the great 
masters are to be found in these sacred reposi- 
tories, generally as altar-pieces. And if the artist 
or amateur departs from Rome without inspecting 
them, one and all, he will find that the purpose of 
his journey to this " mistress of arts, as once of 
arms," has been but half accomplished. Indeed, 
we owe to the monks and secular clergy that en- 
couragement of the sister arts of statuary and 
painting, which has left so much for posterity 
both to imitate and admire — arts which had lan- 
guished, or perhaps been lost during the darker ages, 
amid the din of arms and the reign of ignorance, 
but for the timely aid they received from the 
discerning inmates of the cloister and the aisle. 
Their Order itself has produced no mean painters. 
The frescoes in several churches are by them, and 
the works of Fra Bartolomeo at Lucca and in 
other places have procured for the author no 
inconsiderable name. 



THEIR ORNAMENTS. 



15 



Although in these edifices statues, perhaps from 
the chisel of a Michael Angelo, and paintings, 
probably the creation of a Corregio, arrest the 
attention of the beholder, much still remains to 
surprise and delight. The pavement is generally 
to be found of mosaic, in which beautiful patterns 
are worked with extraordinary care. Pictures, 
also of the same material, will be found, having all 
the force and freshness of the finest oil painting ; 
with this difference, too, on its side, that it is 
almost imperishable. Many of the mosaics from 
the times of the Emperors are to be found in the 
museums or in private collections, retaining un- 
diminished their colours and beauty. So cleverly 
are the mosaic pictures of the churches executed, 
that it requires close inspection and a practised 
eye to tell the diflFerence. This especially applies 
to the superb specimens that grace the walls of 
St. Peter's. A copy of Raphael's chef d'ceuvre^ the 
Transfiguration, in this minute material, has been 
considered almost a fac-simile of that great triumph 
of genius. 

But, after all, it is perhaps upon the altar and 
chancel that the greatest care has been bestowed. 
These are in general placed in the centre of the 
cross of the ground- plan. Marble is mostly the 



16 



RELICS. 



material of which they are composed — but such 
marble ! Of red, purple, or green, crossed by the 
most brilliant veins, and finished with the highest 
polish. In not a few the rich blue and gold of 
the lapis lazuli is blended with the fine hues of 
the verd antique. These are all formed of the 
pillage of the Roman temples ; and when we con- 
sider that the conquerors of the world ransacked 
their empire for the purpose of furnishing materials 
to beautify the abodes of their gods, we may con- 
clude how rare and rich they are. Gilding, and 
sometimes even solid gold, lend their aid to this 
holy of holies. An ark of precious stone, of onyx, 
or alabaster, contains the revered hostia^ and 
candelabra of various but correct designs sur- 
mount the altar ; on the centre of which, but a 
little space behind, is to be found either a colossal 
crucifix or an image of the Virgin. 

These altars are, without exception, hollow, and 
are the receptacles for what the monks and people 
deem of the highest value — the relics and the 
bodies of saints. Gilt letters upon a medallion 

Hie jacet corpus,^' Sfc,,) tell who the fortunate 
possessor may be : they are the safeguards of the 
churches, and the treasury of the priests. In these 
places, and not in the silent tomb or narrow grave. 



RELICS. 



17 



repose the bodies of the apostles, martyrs, and 
canonised Popes. Some of them, upon certain 
days of the year, the festa of the pecuhar saint, 
are exposed to the reverence of the multitude or 
the gaze of the vulgar. Where a saint of noto- 
riety sleeps, a small hght is kept constantly burn- 
ing, but barely visible through a small orifice in 
the front. The sacristan will tell you that it has 
never been extinguished from the period that the 
earthly labours of the saint terminated. The 
effect upon the mind is curious : we are im- 
pressed, as it were, that the spirit of the de- 
parted keeps watch and ward over the precious 
relics, and gives a portion of animation and life 
to the frail and perishing records of the dead. 
To the unreflecting, also, it may in some degree 
convey the notion of the soul's immortality, and 
that, though centuries have wrapped the silent 
ashes, the living principle has for the same long 
period resisted their sway. 



18 



CHURCHES. 



CHAPTER 11. 

CHURCHES. — THE DOME. — ITS PAINTINGS. — MONUMENTS. — PLENA- 

RIA INDULGENTIA. ITS TENDENCY AND CONSEQUENCES. 

DESCRIPTION OF ST. PETER'S. BRONZE STATUE OF ST. PETER. 

DIMENSIONS OF THE CHURCH. BASILICA OF ST. JOHN LA- 

TERAN. ITS RELICS.— THE PANTHEON. — PRESERVED ENTIRE. 

The shape of the churches is, with few excep- 
tions, cruciform. This seems to have been the 
ancient figure, at least we recognise it in churches 
of an early date. Any churches that are erected 
in modern times are uniformly of this figure. 
Besides the great altar, placed opposite the door, 
there are in general six others, — at either side 
three, — only a little inferior to the principal one 
in size and embellishment, having each their cru- 
cifixes, paintings, and arks : upon these the priest 
offers up the mass upon ordinary days. Upon 
Sundays, and the great festivals of the year, the 
bishop, or priest, attended by his clergy, cele- 
brate their imposing rites with all the graces of 
motion, decorum, and order, calculated so well to 



PAINTINGS OF THE DOME. 19 

impress the multitude, and which are to be found 
only in their perfection at this capital of the 
Roman Church. 

Over most of the churches there is a dome, 
in proportion to the size of the edifice. The 
interior of this is adorned with mosaic, or ele- 
gantly painted ; and the eflfect is excellent, from 
the light that is admitted at the top being dif- 
fused equally around. The subjects, too, that are 
chosen to decorate this part, if we except the 
blasphemy of representing God the Father, are 
of the most suitable kind, such as the Saviour 
surrounded by angels, the Resurrection, and the 
Apotheosis of the Virgin. It is upon this part, 
and upon the roof, that we generally find the 
paintings of God, — a practice calculated to 
give such scandal, and so much opposed to 
the principles of Christianity. To represent the 
adorable Being who presides over all things, is 
an egregious fallacy in human reasoning ; but to 
degrade Him, who is all perfection, and of whose 
nature we can form no adequate conception, into 
the human form, into the likeness of sinful flesh, 
is so palpable an error, and the tendency of which 
is so evident, that it seems almost impossible to 
think how men acquainted with revelation could 



20 PAINTINGS OF THE DOME. 

be guilty of it. " No man hath seen God at any 
time." Moses saw but a symbol or emblem of 
the Divinity : EUjah beheld no form, and heard 
but the still small voice. To degrade, then, the 
Supreme Spirit into "dust and ashes," instead 
of being calculated to give exalted notions of 
Him, has a direct tendency to corrupt the root 
of all religion, and to weaken its force upon the 
mind. There is, in fact, a littleness, almost 
amounting to idiocy, in attempting to paint the 
Creator. But when men give way to their irre- 
gular fancies, they do not know where to stop. 
Resolving to give the Deity a form, they adopt 
the human, concluding that it is perfect; whereas 
reflection might have told them that it is not 
necessarily perfect, since we find it but too 
often a clog and burden to the mind, incapable 
frequently of seconding its wishes, and, by the 
diseases and accidents to which it is subject, de- 
pressing, almost destroying, its immortal fellow. 
God is generally represented as an old man with 
grey hair. The pictures that the great masters 
have given us of the Saviour are generally redo- 
lent of beauty and dignity; but the attempts to 
represent God are, as may be imagined, a total 
failure. In the Scriptures the features of our 



PAINTED CEILINGS. 



21 



Saviour's character are so strongly marked, — 
his meekness, resignation, and love, — that these 
traits have been embodied by the painter's skill ; 
and his incarnation renders the attempt easy and 
successful. But, from the general absence of par- 
ticular description in Holy Writ concerning God, 
and from the inspired writers dwelling upon what 
was of more importance to man, — his attributes, 
his majesty, glory, omnipotence, and eternity, — 
the painter has had recourse to the miserable 
expedient I have mentioned to represent the Holy 
One, about whose throne are clouds and darkness, 
and who dwells in light inaccessible. 

Another part of the church upon which the 
architect, or the monk, has contrived to display 
his powers of invention and embellishment, is 
the ceiling. This, with scarcely an exception, is 
painted with interesting pieces, in the most bril- 
liant colours, and generally with the greatest taste ; 
or, divided into compartments alternately painted 
and carved, and being covered with the richest gild- 
ing, attracts most gratefully the eye. We find the 
significant coat of arms of the Popedom, the keys, 
recurring frequently, perhaps with that of some 
noble house, and the interjacent lines filled up 
with a pattern which probably has been copied 



22 



PAINTED CEILINGS. 



from some masterly antique, brought to light by 
modern research, or the creation of their own 
fertile genius. The eye rests with singular and 
undiminished pleasure upon the noble roof of the 
church of " Ara Coeli," occupying the summit 
of the immortal Capitol. The roof of St. Mary 
Maggiore is all gold, having been formed from 
the first-fruits of the Spanish-American invasion ; 
the effect is splendid, viewed now in the great 
hall, and now in the side aisles. In churches 
where there has not been this display of art and 
outlay of the precious metal, we hardly miss their 
absence, from the finely-coloured and attractive 
paintings which occupy their place. We shall find 
upon this part, both of sacred edifices and private 
buildings, that the great master has not disdained 
to exercise his art, and confer a share of his 
genius. The roofs of the Vatican galleries and 
chambers have been painted, to a great extent, 
by Raphael; some of Guide's frescoes remain 
upon those of the library in the same extensive 
and celebrated palace. The beautiful " Aurora'' 
of the latter also occupies the roof of the Rus- 
pigliori Palace, on the Quirinal Hill. 

It is strange that in this country so large a 
part of our buildings, so well calculated for an 



PAINTED CEILINGS. 



23 



effective display of well-chosen subjects, should 
be left almost universally cold and bare. It is 
a part to which the eye constantly recurs, and 
we easily know that one of the great physical 
distinctions between man and the lower creation 
is, that, from its organic formation, the eye is 
adapted to contemplate objects on a level with, 
or superior to itself. 

This custom of painting the ceiling is very an- 
cient, and is exclusively Italian. In the ruins of 
the '^golden house" of Nero, in the neighbourhood 
of the " Forum Romanum,'*' the roof of both corri- 
dors and chambers has been evidently painted with 
considerable skill; and even after the lapse of so 
many centuries, they discover great beauty. It is 
a well-known fact, that Raphael studied these ele- 
gant remains, and copied them upon the Vatican 
apartments. The ceilings of the houses at Pompeii, 
the disinterred city in the Neapolitan dominions, 
have also a great variety of scenes in oil or fresco. 
How wonderfully had civilization advanced among 
these refined people, when we find their abodes so 
completely and elegantly adorned, surpassing us 
no less in the variety and richness of their furni- 
ture, than the profusion of ornament which both 
courts and houses even now exhibit to our view. 



24 



MONUMENTS. 



With the monuments, I shall have completed the 
description of the sacred edifices of Rome. These 
are to be found in great numbers in almost all. In 
general, as may be easily imagined from a country 
abounding in the finest marble, and supplied with 
first-rate artists, they are very impressive and beau- 
tiful objects. They occupy a considerable space in 
every church, and serve to excite reflections in the 
devout mind, of the instability of life, and, at the 
same time, form a fine contrast to the various other 
objects indicative of hope and immortality with 
which these buildings abound. The form that is 
most observed is a slab with an inscription, sur- 
mounted by one or more statues. The execution 
of some of these is admirable, and their likeness to 
life, and representation of the passions — of grief, 
hope, or despair — striking and correct. 

The Pantheon contains the busts and monuments 
of the great authors and painters of Italy, and may be 
called the Westminster Abbey of Rome. Raphael 
here reposes. The monuments of the Popes are 
in St. Peter's, and are unquestionably the finest in 
the world. These are interwoven with Canova's 
genius, and are the very specimens where modern 
art has been successful in its efforts to equal 
ancient perfection. 



VAULTS. 



25 



There is something remarkable in the inscrip- 
tion of the ordinary monuments. We are always 
told, not only the years that the person lived, but 
also the months and days. There is, besides, an 
absence of what we might expect in the monument 
of a Christian. It is not detailed, in letters which 
shall defy Time's effacing fingers," that they died 
in the faith and fear of God, relying upon the Re- 
deemer's mercy, and assured of felicity ; on the 
contrary, we find an inflated account of the life of 
the person to whose memory the monument is 
sacred, with every worldly thing magnified, and 
everything religious concealed. Nay, in some, we 
find it gravely reported that they danced ele- 
gantly while others describe their progress in 
"arithmetic" at an early age. 

Under all the churches are capacious vaults, 
which are used as receptacles for the dead. A 
round stone, of two feet in diameter, is removed, 
and the deceased, cold and coffinless, is huddled in. 
Extraordinary to relate, male and female are not 
interred together ; they occupy a separate charnel- 
house. Upon one stone, the words ^' Pro Viris" 
upon another, ^' Pro Mulieinhus,'' are written. 
Thus, where the ties of affection and the bonds of 
love have been broken by death, the kindred hearts 



26 



PLENARIA INDULGENTIA: 



are denied this last consolation, — that in death they 
will be undivided. It affords a gloomy comfort, 
but it is a comfort^ that we shall sleep the unbro- 
ken sleep of the tomb pillowed with those we love. 
The heart, in its last moments of agony and pain, 
has, in some degree, its path of terror smoothed by 
the reflection, that it passes away to join the one 
that beat responsive to its own, — that, as their 
hopes, joys, fears, were united upon earth, so their 
ashes may be mingled in the grave. 

After an early examination, upon retracing my 
steps, an object caught my eye which had at first 
escaped notice. I observed over the door of almost 
every church, in large white letters on a black 
ground, the words Indulgentia plenaria perpetuo 
pro vivis et defunctis,^^ This startling announce- 
ment is generally upon a board, — like a sign over 
an hotel, declaring what sort of entertainment is to 
be found within. There seems to be an absolute 
rivalry upon the subject. In some we find it 
placed more prominently than in others ; while it is 
not forgotten, if the letters become defaced, to have 
them carefully renewed. 

What an extraordinary announcement in a 
Christian temple — "the utmost liberty for the 
living and the dead !" No doubt, this subversion 



ITS TENDENCY, ETC. 



27 



of the principles of Christianity drives only at one 
object — the replenishing of the coffers of the 
Church. It is the prostitution of religion for pur- 
poses of gain, and upon a subject which is sure 
to have no lack of customers, as conscience 
will urge millions to the absolving shrine, and 
affection call as many to purge the ashes of 
their dead. The words are on St. Peter's, and 
thus are stamped with all the authority of the 
Vatican. 

If the announcement is fully acted on, the ques- 
tion may be well asked. What are its effects ? Im- 
morality and irreligion must, I conceive, be the 
inevitable result If a man under the influence 
of sin, or committing actual crime, knows where 
he may without any inconvenience (where there 
is an absolute competition to serve him) wipe 
out all these stains and scars, and return to inno- 
cence, participating in full pardon, — if the accounts 
he owes are settled so easily, the long bills ignored 
by the ecclesiastical jury, with whom the heaviest 
arguments are the best, — it is to me a great doubt, 
whether, with youth as it were invigorated, and 
conscience cleansed, he will not return with re- 
newed zest to his original life ; and thus a sort of 
holy book-keeping be kept up, the account of 

c 2 



28 



PLENARIA INDULGENTIA: 



debtor and creditor regularly proceeding, and as 
regularly settled. 

If individuals in courts of law could, by un- 
dergoing some nominal penalty, have no fears of 
the consequence of crime, and might obtain full 
exemption from punishment, would the state of 
society be as inviolable, and men's property and 
persons as secure, as when that law vindicates 
itself, and its red right arm is bared for punish- 
ment ? It is so with human nature, — equally the 
case with the conscience. Where punishment, 
the dread of future recompense, can be bought 
off on such easy terms, vice in its varied forms is 
likely to flow with an unobstructed course, and 
exert its evil influence upon the great mass of 
society. The objection once made, " Who can 
forgive sins but God alone ? is exactly reversed 
in Papal Rome. It is hard to know what the 
character of Roman morality is — it is difficult to 
read the hearts The very name of the City of the 
Church will serve as some outward check. I 
speak only of the genuine consequences of the 
practice. 

Although the principle involved be so opposed 
to true religion, it is for many reasons the very 
last thing that the priesthood would be hkely to 



ITS TENDENCY, ETC. 



29 



abandon. Let as much light as possible be thrown 
upon it, they will still cling to and clutch it. The 

Plenaria Indulgentia^''' thus openly advertised, 
serves two important purposes in the economy of 
the Roman Church. It gives the great body of 
the people an exalted idea of the priesthood, and 
being the true thesaurus theologicus^^ it re- 
cruits the finances, and oils the wheels of the 
whole system. And then how comprehensive is 
its circle; it includes the living and the dead, — 

vivis et defunctis,'''' No matter how unsubstan- 
tial the theory, its results are gratifying. It may 
be truly said of them Quod volumus facile ere- 
dimus^'' or more pertinently in the present in- 
stance, ''Populus vult decipi.'" Its manifest use 
will maintain it, and the infallibility of the Church 
comes in to check any doubt that may arise con- 
cerning it — a mode of stifling argument, that has 
been devised in modern times, to chain the reason 
and the will to the chair of the Popes. 

And yet this doctrine, which throws so slender 
a veil over irreligion and crime, is a cardinal one 
in that rehgious system that has fascinated some 
of the ministers of the Protestant Church. Are 
the prevailing motives those of the Church of 
Rome? Do they secretly, but irresistibly, long 



30 



DESCRIPTION OF 



after the power which the former exercise — a prin- 
ciple that gives strong impulses to weak minds — 
or does the baser object of certain gain move the 
springs which have influenced their conduct? 

As I have principally spoken of churches in 
this and the preceding chapter, I will add a brief 
account of three of the most celebrated which 
adorn the city of Rome — St. Peter's, St. John 
Lateran's, and the Pantheon. St. Peter's, both 
in extent and magnificence, must stand at the 
head of all. In the sense of religious edifices we 
may apply to it the boast, Mater et caput om- 
nium ecclesiarum" The architecture is essen- 
tially Roman, comprising a lofty front profusely 
ornamented, and an extensive vestibule, over which 
rises the aerial dome, which bears the impress of 
Michael Angelo's great mind. Colonnades extend 
on both sides, judiciously concealing from view 
some disfiguring buildings in the neighbourhood, 
and enclosing a fine amphitheatre, in the centre 
of which stands one of the largest Egyptian obe- 
lisks, and on either side a fountain of very beau- 
tiful structure. These constantly jet forth their 
crystal stream, forming a variety of hues in the 
bright sunshine, and descending upon the earth 
as the gentle dews of heaven. They are, as it 



ST. PETER'S. 



31 



were, emblematical of the virtue constantly flowing 
from the Vatican; but the "limpid clear" is a 
flattering representation of the form of religion 
which has its highest altar within the neighbouring 
walls. 

There are three bronze doors, the largest of 
which is only opened upon the great festivals. 
The effect is sublime as you enter the interior; 
probably roof was never placed over a grander 
hall. The view is unintercepted until it rests 
upon the pontifical altar, directly beneath the 
dome ; beyond which it is again rivetted by some 
gigantic monuments. A canopy, sustained by 
bronze spiral pillars, ninety feet high, is sus- 
pended over the altar, not in the least out of 
proportion with the other vast details of the edifice. 
The two sides of the cross* form extensive chapels, 
still under the same roof, and making one perfect 
whole. There are other chapels, also, on either 
side, with their marble altars and matchless 
pictures. 

The great wonder of St. Peter's is its extent — 
its colossal proportions. Amazement is the feel- 
ing that is universally excited : — 

* Of the ground-plan, which is the usual figure — the form of a 
cross. 



32 



DESCRIPTION OF 



But thou of temples old, or altars new, 
Standest alone — with nothing like to thee-— 
Worthiest of God, the holy and the true. 
Since Zion's desolation, when that He 
Forsook his former city, what could be 
Of earthlj^ structures, in his honour piled, 
Of a sublimer aspect ? Majesty, 
Power, glory, strength, and beauty, all are aisled 
In this eternal ark of worship undefiled." 

All this extent is, with the utmost skill and 
taste, adorned with unrivalled statues, paintings, 
and mosaic. In fact nothing has been ever admit- 
ted into St. Peter's but what is first-rate in its way. 
Here are the greatest monuments of Canova and 
Thorwaldsen : Raphael's " Transfiguration," Guido's 
" Lucifer," and Guercino's " St. Petroncille" are 
copied in mosaic, almost equalling the noble origi- 
nals. Medallions of the Popes, full of character and 
vigour, and retaining the resemblance, no doubt, to 
exactness, are profusely spread upon the support- 
ing pillars. We may even mark upon the features 
the character of the mind, — whether ambition was 
the ruling passion, or avarice was the secret spring, 
or whether religion has impressed upon its lines 
the stamp of devotion. Monument succeeds mo- 
nument, each of beautiful workmanship, of the 
purest marble, and the most exquisite design. 
Statues of the founders of the religious orders 



ST. Peter's. 



33 



occupy niches, and are expressive figures, but 
inferior in point of execution to those I have just 
mentioned. Among the monuments will be found 
one to the descendants of the Stuarts, the last of 
whom was in orders at Rome, and was styled "the 
Cardinal Duke of York." Their titles are men- 
tioned, and, amongst the rest^ we are not a little 
surprised to find them called Reges Anglise." 

Above is spread the roof, carved, gilt, and 
painted. It is raised to a great height. The 
colours are fresh, but not glowing or gaudy, nor 
are the objects too profuse for the most delicate 
taste to find fault with. There is just enough 
light admitted, such as the solemn and sacred 
nature of the edifice requires. St. Peter's body is 
said to rest under the great altar, before which a 
great number of lamps are kept constantly burn- 
ing. Many of the canons pass through the aisles; 
and here and there a devout group, engaged in 
deep devotion, are on their knees before their 
favourite shrine. 

The chief object, however, of attraction in the 
church seems to be a bronze statue of St. Peter. 
This figure is seated on a chair, and raised on a 
small platform. It is the only figure in that po- 
sition to be found in any of the churches : from 

c 5 



84 BRONZE STATUE OF ST. PETER. 

this circumstance, as well as the expression, and 
its apparent antiquity, the conjecture of those 
seems to be well founded, who assert that it is 
a statue of Jupiter Capitolinus, which has been 
re-baptized by the Pope. Be this as it may, it 
never received more devout reverence as Jupi- 
ter than it does now as the St. Peter. The 
figure sits in solemnity and silence, while every 
devout Catholic is sure to crowd around him. 
As soon as his devotions, which take place 
near the altar, are concluded, he rises, and 
kisses the foot, or rather great toe, of the 
apostle. The toe is considerably worn. Much of 
it has disappeared by the contact of the lips. I 
have seen a father, when he had impressed his 
lips upon the sacred part, holding up his little 
children to perform the same ceremony. The old 
regime is thus handed down unquestioned from 
sire to son. It is the most exceptionable worship 
which I have seen at Rome. 

I often considered what a figure some of those 
clergymen who have deserted us would make here, 
should they be called to the Eternal City. To this 
custom of all good Catholics they would of course 
conform : Aut Ccesar^ aid nullusr 

The dome is said to be as large as the Pantheon, 



ST. JOHN LATERAN. 



35 



although it is raised above you in so lofty a po- 
sition. It is covered with figures in mosaic, which 
have a fine efiect viewed from the church below. 
To give an idea of its size, and distance from the 
spectator, the pen in St. Mark's hand is ten feet 
long ; yet the figures, to the eye, preserve all 
their natural proportions. Around the base from 
which it rises are written the words " Tu es Petrus; 
et super hanc petram edificabo ecclesiam meam^ et tibi 
dabo claves regni ccelorum.'' 

The dimensions of the church of St. Peter's are, 



The basilica of San Giovanni in Laterano is 
celebrated as having given its name to the Lateran 
Councils that have been held there. Attached to 
it also is the Lateran Palace, formerly a celebrated 
residence of the Popes. The church is older than 
St. Peter's, having been founded by Con stan tine, 
but, with the exception of one part, it is compara- 
tively a modern building. Viewed from the ex- 
terior, the structure has an imposing effect, a new 
and fine front having been added. There is, how- 



Greatest length 
Transept 

Height to top of cross outside 
Height of the nave . 
Breadth .... 



673 feet 
444 „ 
448 „ 
146 „ 
88 „ 



86 



ST. JOHN LATERAN : 



ever, neither tower nor dome. The magnificent 
obelisk, in my opinion, has vastly more interest 
than the neighbouring church. This is the largest 
to be found at Rome, is of one piece, and deeply 
cut with hieroglyphics, from which time has not 
taken an atom of the freshness and sharpness. 

The chancel of the church is fitted up with a 
number of seats, the ecclesiastics being very nu- 
merous. These are also occupied by the candi- 
dates for the ministry on Easter Monday, when a 
solemn ordination is holden by the cardinal bishop. 

The front aisle is a noble hall, terminating in a 
picturesque altar. In the centre of the aisle is 
a superb bronze monument of one of the Popes. 
Statues of the twelve apostles occupy niches here, 
and are larger than life. They are well executed, 
and have much spirit, but the marble is of a coarse 
nature. Some persons have said that the figures 
are so perfect, that they only want a Prometheus ; 
but I am by no means of that opinion. Above 
these are beautiful frescoes ; the subject, the Gospel 
history. The walls are rich in monuments, many 
of them very ancient, and on this account they 
are interesting ; but they can by no means com- 
pare with those of St. Peter's, as objects of beauty 
or taste. 



ITS RELICS. 



37 



St. John Lateran's abounds, more than any other 
church in Rome, with relics. Above the principal 
altar are contained in silver busts the heads of St. 
Peter and St. Paul. There is here also the seam- 
less coat of our Saviour. Whether is this, or that of 
Treves, that has called Ronge into life and activity, 
the genuine one ? One must be false : who shall 
decide ? Here also is preserved the table off which 
our Saviour ate his last supper, and many other relics 
of equal sanctity. These are exposed for the venera- 
tion or worship of the people every Holy Thursday. 

Strange it is that the Catholic world, who repose 
confidence in relics, should question their genuine- 
ness so Uttle. The evidence of their identity should 
be unbroken and unquestionable. By an un- 
biassed mind, in such an inquiry, infallibility should 
be esteemed for just as much as it is worth. Are 
these the real heads of St. Paul and St. Peter? 
At their martyrdoms, was it likely that the in- 
furiated Roman soldiers would preserve them care- 
fully, when they could see no distinction between 
them and the commonest felon ? * At the time of 

* Tacitus calls the Christian religion " superstitio exitiabilis and, 
speaking of those who were brought before the tribunals in Nero's 
time, he says, " that they were condemned not so much for the burn- 
ing of Rome, as for being the enemies of mankind." 

[Pliny 



38 



RELICS. 



persecution, could even the believers, feeble and 
few, venture to give the bodies burial? But we 
know the primitive Church valued the soul, and 
not its earthly tenement — resisting unto blood, in 
hopes of winning the prize. When the empire 
became Christian, in the time of Constantine, it is 
possible a search for relics might be made. But 
who then could collect, from the countless heaps 
of dead — from the catacombs, or the charnel- 
house — the bodies and limbs of apostles and mar- 
tyrs ? Roman Catholics forget that for this pur- 
pose no less than two distinct miracles would be 
required — one to discover them, another to preserve 
them. The effect of the latter would be constantly 
required. Upwards of eighteen centuries must 
have long since reduced them to " dust and ashes." 
A very few years reduces the body to its kindred 
elements : the frame of that structure, the skele- 
ton, may last a century, or perhaps longer ; but it 
is absurd, contradictory to all experience, to think 
that it should reach our time. If it were made of 

Pliny, writing to Trajan, says, " I have asked them whether they 
were really Christians, and, on their persevering in their confession, I 
have commanded them to be led forth, not doubting that inflexible 
obstinacy ought to be punished." 

" Affecti suppliciis Christiani, genus hominum superstitionis novse et 
malefica'." Suetonius, Nero, cap. xvi. 



THE PANTHEON. 



39 



iron, it had been long since reduced to impalpable 
dust. It is vain to defeat decay or to cheat time. 
Hence those relics that we see in the churches are 
supposititious — of necessity frequently renewed. 
So that, instead of a Peter, or a Paul, exposed to 
the worship of the multitude, it is very possible 
it may be a blameless citizen, or an unblushing 
libertine. 

Amid all the churches of Rome, perhaps the 
most remarkable is the Pantheon. It is a Roman 
temple which has come down to our days entire. 
Addition there is none, although the wretched taste 
of some Popes has despoiled it for the embellish- 
ment of St. Peter's. It was, as the name implies, 
formerly appropriated to the worship of all the 
gods, as it is now dedicated to that of all the 
saints. Its modern name is "Santa Maria degli 
Angeli." It is a perfectly circular building, the 
roof being in the form of a dome. 

Its chief ornament is the noble portico, — the 
study of the architects of every age, — the pillars 
of which are of great size ; the order, Ionic. The 
doors leading to the interior are colossal, and be- 
speak the genius of the founders. On the fa fade 
the name of Agrippa is as fresh as if it were but 
recently cut. 



40 



THE PANTHEON. 



This temple, in fact, bears us into the midst ot 
the Romans, and it does not require much effort 
of imagination to believe the worshipers at each 
of the altars the patricians or plebeians of old, 
bearing their offerings or paying their daily ser- 
vice It contains the busts, and in some cases 
the bodies, of the distinguished men of Italy : — 

" Sanctuary and home 
Of art and piety — Pantheon ! — pride of Rome !" 

This temple has undergone but little apparent 
change from the use to which it was formerly 
devoted. Jupiter, Mercury, and Juno have taken 
to flight, but the self-same pedestals and shrines 
have found new occupants in St. Joseph, St. 
Anne, and the Virgin. It is to be hoped that the 
Roman Catholic makes the due distinction between 
the sign and the thing signified ; but it is very 
difficult to draw a reasonable line of distinction 
between the old and the modern worshiper. Says 
a modern tourist, " The great and invisible spirit — 
the source of all things — is perhaps as little in the 
contemplation of the modern, as of the ancient 
worshiper of the Pantheon." There can be no 
doubt, if some of the old tombs were to give up 
their dead, the Roman would see nothing wanting 



THE PANTHEON. 



41 



to complete his worship, — the temple, the altar, 
and the image are at hand. He would, assuredly, 
without a question or a doubt, take his place 
among the rest. 

The altars are numerous ; there is a niche for 
each statue, and pillars of rich marble support 
the canopy overhead. These altars are eminently 
chaste and beautiful ; there is nothing gaudy, such 
as we find in the temples of India, but everything 
is indicative of a taste at once judicious and 
refined. The light is admitted by a circular 
orifice in the roof, and is thus diffused equally 
throughout the building. There is no glass, but 
the fleecy clouds, or deep blue of the firmament, 
look without obstacle on the interior. The floor 
is mosaic, but the patterns are coarse, although the 
material is costly. 

There is an air of dignity about the Pantheon, 
"simple" but " sublime,*" which appeals forcibly 
to the mind. Its very silence is impressive. 
Spared by the hand of the Vandal and the Goth, 
like the majestic oak of the forest, it has withstood 
the changes and the blasts of time. It stands 
amongst the remains of Rome like a Niobe, sur- 
veying amidst the desolation the ruin that has 
seized upon temple and tower in this metropolis of 



42 



THE PANTHEON. 



nations. Her pillars are untouched, her altars 
unbroken, while they have left but 

" Two or three columns, and many a stone, 
Marble and granite, with grass o'ergrown." 

Having descended to us thus entire, it is to be 
lamented that a purer worship does not occupy its 
walls. When the images of the old mythology 
were broken, it is to be deplored that modern mar- 
tyrology so soon supplied their places. If these 
altars were untenanted save by the Bible, the word 
of God filling the place of the work of man, if 
the practice of pure Christianity flowed within the 
walls, it had not inaptly represented the peaceful 
triumphs of the cross, and had well foreshadowed 
the full prostration of the pagan ritual before the 
sublimer precepts of Christ. 



THE CLERGY. 



43 



CHAPTER in. 

THE CLERGY, SECULAR AND REGULAR. — VERY NUMEROUS, AND 

DESTINED TO THE CHURCH FROM CHILDHOOD. THE CARDINALS. 

GALLERY OF CARDINAL FESCH. MODE OP ELECTING THE 

POPE. — INQUIRY CONCERNING THE RED HABIT OP THE CAR- 
DINAL. — BISHOPS. — MONSIGNORES. 

As in other Catholic countries, the clergy at Rome 
may be divided into secular and regular. As may 
be conceived in a city the centre of the Church, 
and the seminary of its learning, they are very 
numerous, and form a large proportion of the 
population. Every twentieth person you meet is 
of the sacerdotal class ; and, from the peculiarity 
and variety of their costume,— from the cardinal to 
the curate,— they form not the least interesting 
spectacle at Rome. 

At Rome we see Romanism as it is ; the me- 
chanism by which it not only governs its immediate 
dominions, but by which its power is extended to 
other states. Its government is sacerdotal, if I 
may so speak, i. e, persons who are in orders 



44 



THE clergy: 



occupy all the oflGices of the state; and the executive 
— they who administer the laws — is composed of 
the same body.* It is, therefore, necessary to 
impress the multitude with an idea of their cha- 
racter and sanctity. Hence all the dignitaries, 
from the cardinal downwards, never appear in 
public, but in their respective ecclesiastical dresses. 
The habit of the cardinal is showy in the extreme; 
that of the bishops plain, but distinctive; while 
the dresses of the regular clergy vary considerably. 
We meet black, brown, white, and grey, with 
hybrid habits between these. Of the former, some 
drive about in gay equipages, and enliven the 
Corso or the Monte Pincio by the butterfly 
colours of their carriages or liveries. You can 
scarcely imagine a greater difference between in- 
dividuals, than there is between the various ranks 
of the clergy in the city of the Popes. The car- 
dinal is analogous to a nobleman. He is a prince 
of the Church; his style is " Vostra Eminenza;^^ and 
by him plebeian contact is regarded as much an 
evil as by the aristocratical circles amongst us. 
But the poor Franciscan or Capuchin is " wide 
as the poles asunder" from his eminence, in gesture, 

* The present Pope, among his other wise reforms, has begun to 
admit the laity to a participation in these offices. 



THEIR NUMBER AND DISTINCTIONS. 45 



manner, and dress. The latter is of the coarsest 
material ; a stocking is too great a luxury for his 
feet; and he would at once lose caste^ if he were seen 
reclining in a calesso or carrozza. The broad- 
brimmed hat shelters the easy visage of the car- 
dinal from the burning rays of the Italian sun ; 
but the skull-cap of the monk leaves the face to 
assume what colour it may by solar influence. 

In the parishes nearly all things are done and 
settled by the clergy. Disputes are arranged and 
feuds checked ; but this seems to be done, notwith- 
standing, more by the force of advice and persuasion 
than from the prestige attachable to their name 
or character. Certain it is that the Irish priests 
exercise a more complete control over their 
flocks, and the latter succumb to the dictates of 
the former with far less hesitation, than I ob- 
served to be the case in the papal dominions. 
The reason of which lies probably in this, that, 
the priest being maintained and fostered by the 
state, each party is independent of the other; 
but in Ireland the case is reversed, where the 
relation of priests and people is of the most in- 
timate nature, deriving its chief strength from 
that species of the voluntary principle which pre- 
vails amongst the Roman Catholic persuasion. 



46 



THE clergy: 



Again : the difference is very marked with re- 
gard to the persons chosen for the ministry. In 
this country, generally, they are taken from the 
middle or humbler classes: at Rome, for the 
most part, the gentry supply its ranks, and the 
nobility, with no small degree of ambition, take 
orders in the Church; nay, even the head of a 
princely house forfeits the hope of transmitting 
his name and honours, and, allured by the Pope- 
dom in the distance, exchanges the coronet for 
the hat of the cardinal. Except in the mendi- 
cant orders, it is scarcely possible for a poor or 
humble individual to enter the Church. It is 
required that he should have, not only enough 
to support him during the years of study, but 
also something in the way of property, which he 
might call his own. No doubt the income looked 
to is small, but it is sulBScient, as I suppose it 
was intended, to guarantee the respectability of 
the priesthood. 

To every parish church not only a rector and 
curates are attached, but many others (priests), who 
share in the duties and emoluments. They are 
called canons, deans, &c. : in some of the larger 
churches as many as twenty will be found chant- 
ing the mass and oflBciating together. In the 



DEDICATED FROM CHILDHOOD. 47 



basilicas they are still more numerous, as at St. 
Peter's, where, besides the dignitaries, we find a 
confessor of almost all the languages in commu- 
nion with Rome. At a certain hour upon every 
day, the English, the French, the German, the 
Austrian, will find a confessor of his own nation, 
who will freely absolve him in the temple where 
" Petrus^'^ Princeps Apostolorum^' both reposes and 
presides. 

Persons intended for the priesthood are dedi- 
cated to its service from childhood : their habits 
are thus early formed, and, by a long and rigorous 
education, they acquire the power of parting with 
every consideration, and place their pleasures and 
their hopes in the profession to which they look 
forward. The innocent recreations, intended by 
nature as an exercise whereby body and ^mind 
receive equal accessions of strength, are pastimes 
of the world, and must not be shared in by the 
embryo priest. It is amusing to see them, as 
they pass by youths of their own age, how 
anxiously they look back upon them, as they 
are engaged in their juvenile sports. The rigid 
rules to which they are restricted cannot banish 
the feeling of companionship from their breasts ; 

* So called in the dedication upon St. Peter's. 



48 



MINIATURE PRIESTS. 



and the voice of nature within them occasion- 
ally renders them deaf to the calls of the pro- 
fessor. 

From their earliest years, also, they are equip- 
ped in complete ecclesiastical dress : they are 
perfect parish priests in miniature, with the black 
flowing robe, the slouched hat, and shoes adorned 
with white buckles. You might imagine them 
the priests of the Pigmean nation, who had sent 
them as emissaries to Rome. You meet them of 
various sizes, from the boy "just breeched," to 
the youth entering his twentieth year. 

It is wonderful how these children have ac- 
quired, even in their features and gait, the gra- 
vity of their order. As they pass you in the 
strada or piazza^ from the air of dignity they 
assume, and the look of consequence they bear, 
you can scarcely refrain from believing that they 
have not just concluded some service, or are 
hastening to their clerical duties. Even their 
parents and friends look upon " il piccolo pretre^^ 
with a sort of veneration. Although not anoint- 
ed or admitted to orders, he is looked upon as 
''set apart" for the priesthood, as one that will 
hereafter withhold or dispense the vengeance of 
Heaven. He is preferred before his brothers, and 



THE CLERICAL OFFICE. 



49 



in their views this dear tie is transferred from 
them, with its mutual regards, to their church. 

Strong and habitual as these restraints are, it 
is a question worthy of consideration, whether the 
end in view is attained, and if the priests are 
equally qualified by study as by inclination for 
the ministry. There can be little doubt but that 
all men are not alike qualified for the sacred 
oflice, from the various tempers, dispositions, and 
constitutions which nature gives to men. Much 
may be acquired by habit,- — the heart to a degree 
changed: but is the stamp which is impressed 
upon it by nature — the peculiar thoughts which 
are the wonted offspring of the mind, and con- 
stitute the identity of the individual — capable of 
substantial alteration ? 

" Naturam expellas furca, tamen usque recurret." 

The indiscriminate selection, then, for the priest- 
hood is founded upon a wrong principle, and seems 
to forget the fallen nature of man, and to be little 
influenced by adaptation and ability. Consequent- 
ly, amongst the priesthood must be found, as the 
evidence of past ages has evinced, the man a prey 
to ambition or to infidelity, the libertine or the 
enthusiast. Preferable is the mode in use amongst 
us, and which bears the sanction of St. Paul : if 



50 



THE CARDINALS. 



any one "of good report" desires the office of the 
ministry, let him be admitted to it. Let inclina- 
tion and natural ability be the reasons for entering 
on the responsible office, and recruit not the ser- 
vice of the Church by a sort of proscription, which 
leaves to the person himself neither choice nor 
refusal. 

The cardinals amount to seventy-two, but the 
Sacred College is seldom full. They were insti- 
tuted by the Popes, taking Moses as the prece- 
dent, to share with them the duties and responsi- 
bility of their exalted station; or this definite 
number may, with greater probabiUty, be taken 
to represent the disciples of Christ. Some are 
in constant attendance upon his person, but the 
greater part occupy fine palaces, in some of the 
best situations of Rome. 

It is unnecessary to say that the Pope is se- 
lected from their number. These are appointed 
at his " mero motu^'' but generally men of ability 
and character are the objects of his choice. A 
prince, however, or other nobleman taking orders, 
— whatever his acquirements may be, — is sure 
of arriving at this distinguished honour. Both 
branches of the clergy are equally eligible. The 
late pontiff, Gregory XVI., was of the regular 



THE CARDINALS. 



61 



clergy* — a monk; so are also Mikara, Oriola, 
and many others. As a preliminary to appoint- 
ment, the enjoyment of some property is indis- 
pensable, as the salary to be derived from the 
papal finances — about eight hundred pounds per 
annum — is not sufficient to support the dignity 
of the clerical aristocrat. All the offices of the 
government are filled by cardinals; they are the 
governors of cities and provinces, bishops and 
archbishops, at home and abroad. They affect a 
great state, and surpass the nobility of the coun- 
try in their establishments and equipage. The 
ordinary dress is a black coat bound with red 
lace, knee-breeches, and red stockings, over which 
is thrown a brilliant scarlet cloak. The head is 
covered by the usual broad-brimmed clerical hat, 
but the colour is also red, from which hang 
gracefully a couple of silk tassels, of the same 
tinge. 

The carriage of the cardinal is also accompanied 
with the same display. It is a large vehicle, and 

* This order was a branch of the Benedictine, rather on the 
decline in Italy. There is, I believe, but one established house at 
Rome. The name of the order is, if I spell it rightly, Camaldo-lesi. 
Although living for the most part in the towns, they partake some- 
what of the nature of the eremita; the brothers, even in the same 
house, living each by himself. 

d2 



52 



THE CARDINALS. 



resembles very much our stage-coaches. The 
panels are painted dark red, with yellow stripes 
upon the pole, axle, &c. They each bear the 
owner's coat of arms on a large scale ; as the 
painting is well executed, it really does not look 
tawdry. The horses are two, and jet black. They 
bear upon their heads red ornaments of worsted, 
which also appear in other parts of the harness. 
A burly coachman, dressed in the gayest livery, 
barred like our butterflies, sits on the box, and 
whips his black steeds through the streets once 
trodden by the Pontifex Maximus of old. Three 
servants obtain a precarious footing behind : two 
hold on by the straps ; the last^ who thus forms 
a sort of triangle, preserves his place by a grip 
with each hand of his brother footmen. These, 
also, wear the same showy livery. 

Frequently I have met one of their "eminences" 
at a short distance in the country, taking the air 
on foot, while the carriage he has left keeps pace 
with him in the road. He walks on, while the 
two footmen tread in his steps. They are treated 
with much deference by the population, and not 
to doff the hat when you meet one is regarded as a 
mark of disrespect. 

Many of the cardinals are men of ability, and 



CARDINAL FESCH's GALLLERY. 



53 



publications from their pen are not uncommon. 
Like the rest of the nobility, their taste is the 
accumulation of pictures and statues. Many have 
good collections. The gallery of the late Cardinal 
Fesch, in the Strada Giulia,* is amongst the best at 
Rome. Possessed himself of the most discrimi- 
nating taste, he spared no expense in his collec- 
tion. It is remarkable as well for the excellence 
as for the variety of the pictures. The other 
galleries are mostly of the Italian schools ; but 
in the Fesch gallery, that of the Flemish and 
Spanish is very extensive and remarkably fine, 
combined with a varied and superb display of 
Italian originals. The visitor can no more forget 
'^The Repentant Magdalene" of Vandyke in this 
collection, than the " Ecce Homo " of Guercino 
in the Corsini gallery. The late proprietor at- 
tached a high value to this picture, and kept it 
constantly in his studio, in company with some 
half-dozen chefs d'oeuvres. It proves that Van- 
dyke's power was not confined to portraits. 

Some of the Sacred College have also built 
spacious palaces, which are exceedingly beautiful, 
and the principal ornaments of the localities in 

* Since the death of the possessor the greater part of the picture 
that composed this gallery have been dispersed. 



54 



MODE OF ELECTING 



which they are placed. But I could not hear of 
their founding useful institutions, or bequeathing 
their wealth to purposes of national or public 
utility. Ostentation seems to be with all the 
ruling principle. They are ignorant that the con- 
nexion of their name with some hospital or col- 
lege would form a more noble and enduring monu- 
ment, and would transmit it more lastingly to the 
gratitude of posterity. 

The mode in which the Pope is elected to fill 
his exalted station is both interesting and curious. 
The elective body are the cardinals, pronounced 
so by a decree of Alexander III. The clergy and 
people were invested with the suffrage, until it 
was abrogated by that Pope. " Nine days are 
allowed for the obsequies of the deceased Pope,* 
and the arrival of the absent cardinals ; on the 
tenth they are imprisoned, each with one domestic, 
in a common apartment, or conclave^ without any 
separation of walls or curtains ; a small window is 
reserved for the introduction of necessaries, but 
the door is locked on both sides, and guarded by 
the magistrate of the city, to seclude them from all 
correspondence with the world. If the election 

* Gibbon, iv. 401. I use his words, as lie expresses it better 
than I can, and I believe the practice has undergone no change. 



THE POPE, 



55 



be not consummated in three days, the luxury of 
their tables is contracted to a single dish at dinner 
and supper; and after the eighth day, they are 
reduced to a scanty allowance of bread, water, and 
wine. During the vacancy of the Holy See, the 
cardinals are prohibited from touching the re- 
venues, or assuming (unless in some rare emer- 
gency) the government of the Church ; all agree- 
ments and promises among the electors are for- 
mally annulled, and their integrity is fortified by 
their solemn oath and the prayers of the Catholics. 
Some articles of inconvenient or superfluous rigour 
have been gradually relaxed, but the principle of 
confinement is vigorous and entire ; they are still 
urged by the personal motives of health and free- 
dom to accelerate the moment of their deUverance ; 
and the improvement of ballot, or secret votes, 
has wrapped the struggle of the conclave in the 
silky veil of charity and politeness." 

All Catholic nations have contributed members to 
the Sacred College, but the great majority is now, 
as it has always been, composed of Italians. Wol- 
sey and Richelieu— the one the produce of the 
English, the other of the Gallic soil — have been 
famous ere now. Cardinal Weld was an English- 
man, and is dead but a few years. The only 



56 



CARDINAL ACTON. 



English cardinal at present is an ecclesiastic of the 
name of Acton. He is easy of access^ of bland 
manners, and very useful to the English residents. 
His holiness seldom engages in anything con- 
cerning the religious or political matters of the 
British Isles without taking the opinion of Cardi- 
nal Acton. 

If our relations with Rome were of a more 
intimate nature, it is probable that the nuncio we 
should have would be one of the most wary of the 
cardinals ; and however the equipage, the red hat, 
and the red stockings might excite attention, it 
would be a matter to be lamented that the perse- 
cuting and intolerant church should have its re- 
cognised representative in our free metropolis. It 
is a spectacle that the people of England would 
be unlikely to endure. At the same time, a re- 
presentative of our own at Rome, however the 
same feeling would naturally resist any proposition 
of the sort, would be attended with considerable 
advantage. I do not now, with reference to this 
diplomatic post, speak of church matters — of this 
different views will be entertained; but I refer 
merely to the benefit of an accredited agent of 
our government to the English residents. It re- 
quires a residence in Italy to become acquainted 



EXORBITANT CHARGES. 



57 



with the underhand and disingenuous nature of 
the Italian character. No men, at least to a great 
extent, are so low in the moral scale ; nowhere 
can there be found a greater want of integrity, 
truth, and honesty. In their dealings with Eng- 
Hshmen the three last principles are entirely 
thrown overboard; and reckoning our countrymen 
as persons well able to bear it, they do not scruple 
to make use of unfair dealing. Numberless cases 
of flagrant injustice have come under my notice; 
I mean cases of contract for houses and lodgings * 
violated and falsified, and among classes where one 
would not expect it, — so universal is the taint, or 
the appetite, to over-reach John Bull. The Eng- 
lish consul has no power where natives are con- 
cerned, so the maltreated Englishman is left to 
have recourse to laws whose language he is not 
conversant with, and whose justice all precedents 
assure him is one-sided. 

The wealthy English pay these enormous de- 
mands, or pocket their aflronts ; but to the artist 
or the invalid, the person of small means, they 
are most serious evils. The Romans know that 

* These remarks apply cliiefly, if not altogether, to the persons who 
let apartments and houses ; the character of the artisan and shop- 
keeper is the reverse of this. 

D 5 



58 



INQUIRY CONCERNING THE 



we have no one to apply to, and hence, in ahiiost 
every case, there is some breach of faith, with its 
consequent annoyances. This system v^^ould all 
be put an end to, the ill-got gains of the Papal 
subjects would cease, if the Inglese had their 
ambassador, armed with powers to decide and 
punish. 

As I often contemplated the cardinals, arrayed 
in their rich red dresses, I was perplexed to ac- 
count for the origin of the colour which they have 
assumed. Is it a religious distinction? The sur- 
plice is an emblematic garment; its pure white, 
without spot or stain, typifying the spiritual purity 
of the wearer. Does the red robe of the cardinal 
point to the doctrine, that, "though your sins be as 
scarlet," yet, by the inexhaustible fountain of abso- 
lution, flowing in this centre of the Catholic body, 
they shall become " white as snow" — that by one of 
their order are held the keys which loose or retain 
sins ? or does it represent the character of their 
Church, which has shewn itself in many an age 
and in many a country sufficiently sanguinary? 
The black flag announces that no quarter may be 
expected ; the yellow, that the plague-spirit is 
hovering over the devoted vessel ; and so, when we 
see this colour universally tinging the chieftains of 



RED HABITS OF THE CARDINALS. 59 



the Church, it is impossible to disconnect it from 
the reflections which St. Bartholomew, the Wal- 
denses, and the Inquisition give birth to. 

The author of the ^« DecHne and Fall" gives a 
somewhat different account: — "The senators of the 
Catholic Church, the coadjutors and legates of the 
Supreme Pontiff, were robed in purple, the symbol 
or emblem of royalty; they claimed a proud 
equality with kings; and their dignity was en- 
hanced by the smallness of their number, which, 
till the reign of Leo X., seldom exceeded twenty 
or twenty-live persons."" 

The dress with which rectors and curates appear 
in public is plain and appropriate. Over their 
black coat, according to the taste of the wearer, 
they throw a light and scanty cloak of black silk, 
which does not reach farther than the knees. They 
are never without their ample-brimmed hat, which 
is turned up and attached to the crown in one part. 
They, however, dress with great taste and precision ; 
in fact, nothing is more attended to. Every digni- 
tary and " regular" has to particularity what he is 
entitled to, and that he takes care to display to the 
public gaze, set off with every advantage. After a 
residence of a few weeks, you may immediately 
tell, by their garb and gait, the dignity of the dif- 



60 



BISHOPS. 



ferent ecclesiastics, from the pompous cardinal to 
the humble, indifferently-clad subdeacon. 

Bishops do not realise the anticipations that may 
be formed of them ; they reserve for the cathedral 
their more showy robes ; they walk or drive 
through the Corso as a priest, with the exception 
of a sterling gold chain worn outside, which holds 
suspended a well-executed crucifix of the same 
metal. Into the band surrounding the hat are 
also introduced a few gay colours ; and if the 
bishop has the dignity of Monsignore, his legs are 
encased in purple stockings. 

The Monsignore is an honour conferred by the 
Pope. It is about the same rank as a knight in 
other kingdoms; it is alike bestowed on men in 
orders and on civilians. Monsignore wears the 
hat of the priest and also his head-gear ; but he 
wraps his shoulders in a light purple cloak, and 
his legs are set off to advantage in silk stockings 
of the same Tyrian dye. His state is also mani- 
fested by an attending servant, who walks after him 
wherever he goes, or acts as footman if he be rich 
enough to afford a carriage. He looks Hke a faded 
cardinal, or you might take him for one of the do- 
mestics of the latter, to whose lot had fallen the 
cast-off and well-worn habiliments of his eminence. 



MONSIGNORES. 



61 



We must not, however, judge from appearances, 
as the title of Monsignore is not unfrequently a 
step towards the more ambitious honour of the 
cardinal. The late president of the English col- 
lege, Dr. Baggs, had received this dignity, and was 
considered in a fair way towards a place in the 
Sacred College; he, however, accepted a bishopric 
in England in 1844, and bade farewell to Rome 
and greatness. The late governor of Rome, Zac- 
chei, was also a Monsignore — a thin, cadaverous- 
looking man, but who had a good deal of the gen- 
tleman in his features and deportment. 



62 CARDINAL LAMBRUSCHINI. 



CHAPTER IV. 

CARDINAL LAMBRUSCHINI. — CARDINAL MIKARA. — THE REGULAR 

CLERGY. DOMINICANS AND JESUITS. — THEIR ACTIVITY AND 

ZEAL. — CAPUCHINS. — FRANCISCANS.— CONVENTS. — OTHER ORDERS. 
— NUNS AND NUNNERIES. 

LAMBRUSCHINI was the Papal prime minister 
during the reign of the late Pope. Of the whole 
body of the cardinals he is the most remarkable 
and striking. There are many that exceed him in 
years, for his age is only between fifty and sixty, 
but none in personal appearance. His carriage is 
erect and manly ; his head fine and intellectual ; he 
possesses an eye, dark, but full of fire, bespeaking 
equally vigour and decision. The forehead is high 
and beautifully formed, indicating no want of men- 
tal faculty ; his features are handsome, and lose 
none of their expression in the disfiguring dress he 
wears. In fact, every line of his face declares him 
a man to whom nature has given no ordinary 
ability, as it also tells that that endowment has 
been cultivated by study and education. He 



CARDINAL LAMBRUSCHINI, 



63 



looks like one who has the cares of a state upon 
him, and I should say he was not unequal to the 
task. I have only seen him at the Sistine Chapel or 
at St. Peter's, and though on these occasions he was 
not inattentive to devotion, if I might judge from 
the expression of the face, the duties of his station 
and the demands of the Church were endeavouring 
to intrude upon, and obtain some occupation of his 
mind. In fact I pitied him, when, during the cere- 
mony, custom compelled him to kiss or embrace 
his neighbouring cardinals^ — whose looks were so 
devoid of intelligence, so diametrically opposite 
to his own. I can say with some confidence, from 
what I have seen of the man, that he discharged 
the various duties of his ofiice, with no less hu- 
manity than zeal, and that, though the encroaching 
and jealous policy of former centuries may not 
have been absent, its cruel or sanguinary spirit had 
no place in his bosom. 

Lambruschini possessed the unlimited confi- 
dence of the late Pope ; he was more than his 
prime minister, he was his cabinet, his '^alter ego^ 
Gregory never engaged in any serious matter 
without having first availed himself of his advice ; 
and instances are not wanting where he had failed 
to fulfil a promise, or had broken a pledged resolu- 



64 CARDINAL LAMBRUSCHINI. 



tion, because it did not meet with the concurrence 
of his minister. The Pope was a cautious and 
a timid man, and, though not devoid of penetration, 
felt the want of all these qualities, which he 
found to his hand in his favourite cardinal. Al- 
though in so high a position, he did not abuse it. 
There seemed to have been a reciprocal affec- 
tion ; the Pope's estimation of him was well 
known ; and during the processions Lambruschini 
frequently used to turn, as it were, to see that his 
aged sovereign and bishop was duly attended and 
taken care of. 

Lambruschini is decidedly patriotic, and has 
done more than any man, in modern times, to re- 
pair the shattered edifice of Romanism. But it 
is a question, whether his inflexible character is 
best calculated to prom^ote the objects he has in 
view. The ground he takes is too high, and less 
adapted to the present aspect and position of the 
Roman Church, than altered times and circum- 
stances warrant. He forgets that Romanism is on the 
decline, and that the weakness, if not the imbecility 
of age, has beset her, while his policy and plans 
would become more the meridian of her strength. 
In the long disputes with Russia he never yielded 
— a ridiculous warfare with a potentate so power- 



CARDINAL MIKARA. 



65 



ful and energetic as the Czar. The front that 
he has generally opposed to France has been bold 
and uncompromising. It is very possible that 
Lambruschini will one day occupy the pontifical 
throne : the Roman Church will have a Pope of 
worth and probity, but tlie^Roman people a de- 
cided enemy to reformation and free institutions. 

Cardinal Mikara,* a Capuchin, and Bishop of 
Frescati, is also a clever and stirring ecclesiastic. 
I cannot speak of his personal appearance, but he 
has the character of being a clear-headed and an 
accomplished man. He is probably the most en- 
lightened of the cardinals, and possesses a spirit 
more in accordance with that of the age than any 
other member of the Sacred College, He has, on 
more than one occasion, shewn a willingness to 
reform the institutions of the Church, but, from the 
cold manner with which his propositions were re- 
ceived, although we should hope that they have 
since made some progress, it augurs that he has 
not many followers.-f- 

* The death of this prelate has taken place since these pages have 
been in the press, 

f Cardinal Mastai, who has ascended the pontifical chair as Pius 
IX., who had previously given no general publicity to his views, 
probably because he felt the inutility of doing so without the power 
to second them, seems to have adopted the line of conduct and liberal 



66 



CARDINAL MIKARA. 



To the liberal principles of Gonsalvi he adds 
an anxiety to make the Church less offensive to the 
great body of Christians who differ from her ; to 
make her more suited to altered times, if not more 
conformable to actual truth. Some years since, in 
a convocation, where the subject in debate was the 
miserable state of the Papal finances, and the con- 
sequent difficulties of the government, he made 
some propositions, startling for their boldness and 
novelty. Some of the college had suggested re- 
trenchment in the public departments, and some 
additional taxes ; but he said, " Can we call for 
economy in the management of the military or 
any other bodies which are necessary or can be 
ill spared by the country, while we ourselves are 
buried in luxury ? Can we deprive the people of 
a necessary while our establishments are enormous, 
and ill adapted to ecclesiastics — our dress expensive 
— our equipage adapted more for princes than 

policy of which, on more than one occasion, Mikara is said to have 
been the advocate. The commencement of his rule augurs well, and 
if he be sincere, and not tied down by the interests of contending 
factions, the result must prove highly beneficial to Italy, and tend in 
no mean degree to exalt his own name. The task, however, is a 
Herculean one. Whether the department be the state or the church, — 
the system religious, political, or social, — it will require a head that 
can plan, and a hand that can grapple with abuses. 



THE REGULAR CLERGY. 



67 



priests? Believe me, retrenchment should begin 
at home — the example of economy should be set by 
us." 

By so doing, he remarked, there would be a 
lighter burden upon the public funds, and that 
they would by degrees right themselves. He also 
added, that the ceremonies and processions of the 
Church were too numerous and expensive, and that 
there was great room for improvement in these 
institutions, as well as in the other parts of the 
government. 

It is desirable to see one of those, who, as Pope, 
may possess so great an influence in Europe, put- 
ting forth opinions equally creditable and just. 
The true method to reform the Roman Church, 
and to crush the abuses with which she abounds, 
is by a movement in the centre of the body. More 
signal will be its effects, and more permanent, 
when those changes are promoted by that eminent 
body to whom are entrusted her sacred and civil 
government. 

The regular clergy form the great majority of 
Roman ecclesiastics. They are in high favour 
with the people and with those in power ; the late 
Pope having been of their order, and being also well 
represented in the Sacred College, they are a 



68 



DOMINICANS AND JESUITS. 



powerful body. It seems difficult to say which of 
them has the greater influence. Probably this 
may rest with the Jesuits, but it results from 
various causes ; they have the education of youth 
altogether in their power, they are strong in the 
Collegio Romano, and are paramount in several 
other institutions in the capital. 

In these seminaries they inculcate their doctrines 
with the usual skill and pertinacity which so much 
distinguish the followers of Loyola. There the 
plastic mind is formed by those acute judges of 
human nature; and while it imbibes secular learn- 
ing, it also imperceptibly, but irresistibly, receives 
that colouring from the institutes of its professors, 
vs^hich attaches it to them in after-Ufe, frofn the 
principle of early association and youthful obedi- 
ence. The education of the scions of noble 
houses, the patrician, and the plebeian, are equally 
in their hands. This of course enlarges the foun- 
dation of their society, and propagates their tenets 
and their power ; but it nevertheless is not for- 
gotten that they are an order which has been 
suppressed by the supreme head of the Church, 
and which has frequently undergone grave sus- 
picion. 

The power of the Dominicans was formerly un- 



THE JESUITS. 



69 



limited : this arose principally from its supplying 
confessors to the various courts of Catholic states. 
This does not continue, but persons of eminence 
consign the care of their consciences, now, to 
any of either ranks of the clergy to whom they 
may feel disposed. Generally the priests, canons, 
or curates connected with the parish have this 
spiritual trust confided to them, while the govern- 
ment of their convents, the instruction of youth, 
or the burial of the dead, give suflBcient employ- 
ment to the regulars. 

The Jesuits are recovering from the disgraces 
and defeats they have received at Rome, as well 
as in other places. They are " up and stirring, " 
frequently to be met on the thoroughfares, with 
thoughtful brows and hurried steps. The business 
of conversion is committed to their hands. Many 
thousand foreigners visit or sojourn in the city ; to 
these the Jesuit frequently finds access, and by 
degrees winds himself into the good graces of his 
new acquaintances. He lends them books, — not 
actual Roman Catholic pamphlets, but those 
which combine the " utile cum c?z/Zc2,"— which, per- 
haps, while they would descant upon some local 
subject, or something remarkable in the neighbour- 
hood, gradually undermine the faith of Protestants. 



70 



ZEAL OF THE JESUITS. 



Then, when they have wound themselves into your 
confidence, they act more openly, and put into 
your hands a book upon the faith" {il fede)^ or a 
tract illustrative of the sole orthodoxy and purity 
of Pcome. It is wonderful with what zeal they go 
about the business, and then it was so purely acci- 
dental—so unpremeditated. 

I have been told that in some cases they are 
successful, and an English family, or some of its 
members, forsake the religion of their fathers, and 
enter into communion with Rome. 

These cases are uncommon, as we may infer 
from the unequivocal sounds of triumph that were 
raised when Mr. Scott Murray lately became a 
convert. They are, however, not the less vigilant 
and prepared for any business which demands 
energy and perseverance. Wherever the post of 
danger is, there the Jesuits will be found • If a 
schism appears in a province, their missionaries are 
sent to bring about measures of conciliation, and 
to heal division. If the Church has a political 
motive in view, she finds no agent more adapted to 
her purpose, from his general knowledge of the 
world, and skill in penetrating character, than the 
follower of Ignatius. If barbarous lands require 
apostles to spread the Gospel, none will be found 



CAPUCHINS AND FRANCISCANS. 7l 

equally fitted, by education and art, to combat and 
overcome the difficulties of the situation, with the 
obsequious members of the same order. 

They, indeed, may be well called "the forlorn 
hope" of the Church, placed always in the front of 
the battle, elated by success, and but little dispi- 
rited by defeat. The dress of this order does not 
differ in much from the local clergy, but they may 
be always observed having the cravat half covered 
with a piece of white muslin. 

The Capuchins and Franciscans are very nu- 
merous, and have several houses. Of the former 
the chief is near the Piazza Barberini, and num- 
bers, with the principal and officers, about 200 
members. Cardinal Mikara, Bishop of Frescati, 
a liberal-minded ecclesiastic, is one of the number. 

Both these orders are maintained chiefly by 
having entrusted to them the burial of the dead. 
When a person dies, they are sent for, and become 
the sole undertakers. Fifty or a hundred of their 
body attend, walking two by two after the body, 
chaunting occasionally in a solemn strain, through 
the frequented streets, some service for the dead, 
while the interval is filled up with conversation. 
It may be the virtues or the foibles of the 
deceased, that they descant upon, but often some 



72 CAPUCHINS AND FRANCISCANS. 



brother's remark wakes a smile in his neighbour, 
so that they seem to engage in their melancholy 
duty with no very depressed feelings. They are 
paid each from a paul to a scudo^ according to the 
poverty or wealth of the individual. 

The habit of both Capuchin and Franciscan is 
much alike — a coarse brown frock or cloak drawn 
tightly to the waist by a band, having the appear- 
ance of a rope or cord, but of a much softer texture. 
A capacious hood is thrown over the shoulders, 
which is used to cover the head ; sandals without 
stockings complete the figure. Some wear a small 
skull-cap, while with others the winds of heaven^ 
play as they list with their dark or grizzled hair. 

The Capuchin looks very venerable with a patri- 
archal beard, which he seems to have copied from 
the Moses of Michael Angelo in the church of 
St. Peter in Vincoli.* Some, at least, would be apt 
to think so, but to me his overgrown moustache 
and barha intonsa seemed to speak more of a mili- 
tary than of a religious character. Very different 

* Michael Angelo supplies us with one of those rare examples, 
where men have successfully cultivated the sister arts of architecture, 
statuary, and painting. In all he attained to incomparable excellence. 
The " monumentum perennius cere " in each department are, St. 
Peter's, the "Last Judgment," and the statue of Moses. The beard 
of the latter, however, is somewhat exaggerated. 



CAPUCHINS AND FRANCISCANS. 73 



in this respect is the Franciscan ; with the same 
dress as to colour, shape, and material, he presents 
his chin and upper lip shaved with as much care 
as if afrisseur had presided at the operation. This 
is solely to distinguish the orders. Indeed, clean- 
liness one would think would be enough for this 
purpose, as the Franciscan must have in this par- 
ticular greatly the advantage of the Capuchin, 
covered as he is with hair, and that in such a 
climate as that of Italy. 

The majority of these men betray but little 
intelligence or acuteness in their countenances. 
It is a question to me whether their qualifications 
in many instances embrace anything further than 
a capacity for chaunting the burial service, and 
going through the ordinary routine of their esta- 
blishments. Living in inactivity and seclusion, 
they can be of no great use to the community, 
and, one would think, a burden to themselves. As 
to clerical duties, the parochial clergy are quite 
sufiicient to discharge them. Hence they live to 
themselves, leading a life of self-denial, and con- 
fer no share of their talents or labours upon the 
community. 

At the same time, the services that the monks 
have rendered must not be forgotten. To their 

E 



74 CONVENTS. 

exertions during the dark ages we are indebted 
for the preservation of literature and art. But for 
them we should look in vain for some of the 
choicest remains of antiquity, or the interesting 
records of their own stirring times. Many a great 
painter would perhaps have forsaken the canvas 
and easel for the pursuits of husbandry or war, 
had he not found a discerning patron in the retire- 
ment of the cloister. But, at the same time, the 
question may well be asked, — whether the large 
number of convents is not productive of more 
injury than benefit to the countries where they are 
situate? Could not the talents or the time of 
the inmates be as usefully applied in other avoca- 
tions, and could they not serve the common Father 
of mankind in private stations, as well as re- 
stricted by an unbending discipline and in a com- 
mon abode? 

The necessaries of life are cheap in Italy ; a few 
baiocchi^^ will procure enough of bread and wine 
to support an individual. This with them is easily 
procured, without bodily labour and the sweat of 
the brow. Consequently these convents are always 
full : according as sickness or age thins the bro- 
therhood, so surely do successors speedily arise to 
take their easy and vacant places. 



CONVENTS. 



75 



The Irish have a house near the Ludovisi villa, 
which belongs to the order of St. Francis. The 
patron is St Isidore. The community is small, 
consisting of a guardian and about a dozen young 
men, invested with the habit. At the conclusion 
of a few years they receive ordination at Rome, 
and return to the Island of Saints. This convent 
is commodic^us, has an extensive garden, and is 
capable of containing a much greater number than 
now occupy it; but its resources seem to have 
decayed, as the general appearance of the place 
and the dilapidation of the premises testify. It 
does not seem to^ have any connexion with the 
Irish college. Its festival day is St. Patrick. 

I have inspected several of the convents, and 
found a considerable degree of comfort in the 
interior. The sites are well chosen, and the 
chambers large and commodious. All are under 
the management of a principal or guardian, and 
consist of novices and admitted brethren. A 
chapel is of course attached to each, in many 
instances not inferior to the parish churches both 
in size and embellishment. 

The refectory is a large room ; and a library is 
generally attached, the walls of which are, in 
nearly every case, adorned with excellent frescoes. 

E 2 



76 



CONVENTS. 



ThuSj food for body and mind is alike provided 
but the cravings of the latter probably hold no 
proportion with those of the former. I rarely 
saw a student occupied in the library ; the 
benches were bare, the books reposing in silence. 
Not but that there was a goodly store of them; 
the folios of the Fathers were mingled with many 
modern and agreeable works. Intellectual em- 
ployment, I conclude, never occupies a thought of 
the great majority; their reading is generally 
turned to the breviary and the lives of the saints. 

However, in most of the " houses," discipline 
and forms take the place of intellectual pursuits. 
They rise early and go through the set religious 
duty, and conform to the rigorous or relaxed insti- 
tutions of their peculiar order. The day is begun 
and concluded with a considerable part of the 
breviary — "the office," as it is called — accom- 
panied with the usual recommendation to the 
Virgin and the saints. At the angles of the 
staircase wooden crucifixes are placed; these are 
devoutly kissed as often as the brother either 
ascends or descends ; and thus the morning or 
the evening is consumed with various exercises, 
postures, and ceremonies. 

The Benedictines and Dominicans congregate 



OTHER ORDERS. 



77 



also in considerable numbers, but they are not so 
much in public as the members of the two former 
orders. The dress of the Dominicans is a grey 
habit, with a hood of a dark colour. They have 
churches of their own, where they officiate and 
receive the emoluments. These orders have, from 
time to time, produced some remarkable men ; 
in many instances, they appear to be men of birth 
and education. The "generals" of all these orders 
reside at Rome; they organise houses in other 
kingdoms, and decide finally all matters relating 
to their society. 

The Augustins do not appear to be so numerous, 
although they are evidently a strong body, and are 
in possession of some fine convents and churches, 
viz. the remarkable church in the Via Augustini, 
which receives as many offerings as any other 
single edifice in Rome. 

There are various other orders, as might be 
expected, at Rome, varying in habit, life, and 
rules. There are Carthusians and Carmelites, the 
order of St. Basil, &c. Some wear a large red 
cross upon the left breast or upon the shoulder. 
I have met some monks in the streets who have 
the crown of the head quite " shaven and bare," 
and also the hair upon the back of the head and 



78 



NUNS AND 



temples, leaving a ring of about two inches in 
width only. This is meant to represent '^the 
crown " which they are to have hereafter, which 
they are allowed now to wear in anticipation. 
Upon this, of course, no covering descends. I 
take it that these men are regarded as peculiarly 
holy, and possibly esteemed so by the people, 
although I could not see that they were treated 
with any peculiar respect. 

Convents for females, or nunneries, are just as 
numerous. They have also the saints who preside 
over their institutions, and who give their names 
to the order. St. Ursula, St. Agatha, St. Clara, 
are of the number, I can speak but little of these 
institutions. They are absolute prisons, and they 
alike retain the inmates and exclude the public ; 
but they are large edifices, and they must have 
corresponding establishments. 

Their rules are most strict and unbending. 
When the Roman daughter takes the veil in them, 
she truly bids adieu to the world. She never 
again looks upon the beautiful landscape, glimpses 
of which her youth had caught from each of the 
seven hills, combining the green champaign with 
the blue mountain, the rapid Tiber, and the classic 
ruins of her native land. The breeze from the 



NUNNERIES. 



79 



Appenine shall never more fan her cheek, but 
the confined air and the close room gradually 
remove the hues of health — separated not only 
from her acquaintance and companions, but from 
her childhood's home, and a dark line drawn, ever, 
between parental communication. The father at 
set times may converse with his daughter, but 
their eyes shall behold each other no more. Her 
stern resolve has broken the ties that bound her 
to the world. They are to each other as the lan- 
guage of the dead, as the voices of spirits. She 
departs to her living tomb, probably to eat her 
heart; and he to his home — as fanaticism or 
nature prompts — to rejoice in his offering, or to 
deplore his loss. 

Nothing can be more melancholy and mono- 
tonous than the life of the unhappy nun. All 
those pleasures derivable from the prospect of 
nature and the cheering influences of society 
she is deprived of. She is separated from these 
influences which improve the character and 
strengthen the mind ; and, we may say, being out 
as it were of the school of trial and probation, 
is actually less fitted for the approach of death, 
and the great change that is to take place, than 
those who mingle in the world, and discharge the 



80 



NUNS AND 



duties imposed upon them by Providence. She 
is the creature of custom — the victim of a habit 
which results from mistaken, if not corrupt, views 
of rehgion. It is the part only of a system which 
maintains an ecclesiastical structure, built on ob- 
servance and ceremonial ; whose principle is to 
spread out religious truth before the eyes, and not 
to cultivate it in the heart. 

The convents are prisons; the windows are 
closely barred, the doors locked: and lest the 
meditations of the inmates should be disturbed 
by the passing crowd, a shed projects at right 
angles with the base of the windows, so as to 
completely obstruct their view. The clergy are, 
of course, admitted to these houses, where mass 
is celebrated at all the usual times. The lives 
of the inmates are said to be sincere, and they 
engage in the duties of their order with earn- 
estness and zeal — of which, indeed, any other 
evidence need hardly be required, than their vo- 
luntarily quitting the world, and, to a great ex- 
tent, its enjoyments, at the price of domestic 
exile and personal liberty. 

When old age, or more probably disease, puts 
a period to their existence, neither winds nor 
night dews shall fall over the peaceful head. 



NUNNERIES. 



81 



There are the cold damps of the vault, but 
none of 

" the momentary dews. 
Which, sparkling to the twilight stars, infuse 
Freshness in the green turf that wraps the dead." 

The distance is but short from the chamber above 
to the vault below. The hands of the sisters 
close her eyes, and by the same are soon com- 
pleted her secret obsequies. 

The loss of health must follow as a matter of 
course in these institutions. Rome, during the 
summer months, is visited by a frightful agent, 
malaria, which deals fever upon all who come 
within its influence. This and the sirocco make 
the air peculiarly prejudicial to life. Those who 
are able, leave at these times the stricken city 
for the hills or the sea-coast ; but with what effect 
must it tell upon those who are immured within 
the walls of a confined building! In no monas- 
tery do the monks totally seclude themselves; 
they "take the air," and look healthy and well: 
while those to whom nature has given weaker 
constitutions are forbidden by the rules to 
strengthen or preserve it^ but are left by that 
Church, " void of natural affection," to pine and 
perish in secret. 

E 5 



82 



CEREMONIES AT ST. PETER'S. 



CHAPTER V. 

CEREMONIES AT ST. PETER'S THEIR EFFECTS. — CHRISTMAS. 

PROCESSION. — GREGORY XVI. GUARDIA NO BILE. TEMPORAL 

AND SPIRITUAL CHARACTER OF THE POPE. — PAPAL BENEDIC- 
TION. 

The superb cathedral of St. Peter's, at all times 
abounding with objects of unequalled interest and 
beauty, is never more engaging or more attractive 
than upon the two great festivals of the Christian 
world — that which is designed to commemorate 
the birth, and the resurrection of our Lord. 

The sojourner at Rome, at every repeated visit, 
makes some new discovery, by which some new 
light breaks in upon the soul — removing all pre- 
vious doubt, if any existed, of the majestic pro- 
portions, and, at the same time, the harmony 
reigning throughout every detail of this unri- 
valled Christian temple. It is beautiful in its 
grand proportions, viewed as the shadows of eve 
steal into the building, adding infinitely to the 



CEREMONIES AT ST. PETER'S. 83 

massive and marble-cased pillars, like giants' 
arms sustaining the fretted and gilded roof, and 
investing with fresh sublimity that dome — the 
miracle of modern architecture — " to which 
Diana's wonder was a cell." 

Beautiful it is, also, when the golden tints of 
the Italian sun enter the sanctuary, as it admits 
its evening beams through the lofty windows — 
shedding its mellowing influence on all things 
around, and imparting, perhaps, its warm glow 
upon some picture of Guido or Carracci, and, 
Prometheus-like, giving a life and inspiration to 
the figures, so as almost to cheat the imagina- 
tion ; while, in the hohness and silence of the 
place, we for a moment expect them to start 
from the canvas, and again to hold converse with 
the things and beings of this world. 

In a distant part of the building a figure, the 
creation of ^ Canova, seems to be really engaged 
in devotion, as the cold lines of the marble re- 
ceive some reflexion of the warm tints of life; 
while, in other statues nearer to our view, sprung 
from the wand of the same magician, they seem 
at least to have been once animated with the 
breath of life, and call forcibly to mind the pale 
and slumbering form, " ere the first day of death 



84 CEREMONIES AT ST. PETER's ; 

has fled," bearing still upon the features all the 
traces and stamp of beauty — the last glimpses 
that affection may steal, when all that still re- 
mains is equally recognised and loved — just 

" E'er decay's effacing fingers 
Have swept the lines where beauty lingers/' 

But, in my mind, St. Peter's is never seen to 
more advantage than when one of the pompous 
and im^posing ceremonies of the Roman Catholic 
church is celebrated within its precincts. The 
great head of the Church — the Supreme Pontiff of 
the Catholic world — presides, attended by the cardi- 
nals, and with a long train of prelates and priests. 

On these occasions nothing is left undone 
which can produce an effect. There is every- 
thing to captivate the eye, to engage the feel- 
ings, and to arrest the imagination. The effect 
of such studied and imposing ceremony, where 
nothing can be added to the appearance, but 
grace, ease, and decorum reign throughout, is 
to many minds overwhelming. Self-command 
is lost amidst the glitter, the crowd, and the 
solemnity ; and while the eyes and the ears 
are engaged, reason is also led captive, and re- 
flection falls bound to do homage at the chair of 



THEIR EFFECTS. 



85 



the Popes. With persons of such a character 
this change is not unfrequently made, with re- 
gard to their former rehgious opinions and future 
inclination. But they are persons of an uniform 
frame of mind, whose tone of thought is vacilla- 
ting and indecisive ; superficial observers of things 
themselves, their principles are not fixed upon a 
basis capable of resisting influences that make their 
approach even by the feeblest avenues of sense. 
They are persons whose habits have been averse 
to contemplation, or who, perhaps, are physically 
incapable of dwelling upon the objects of the past, 
or considering the hopes of the future. The spi« 
ritual worship of the Deity is a topic too abstract 
and refined for their ideas. If religion must sub- 
sist with them, it is to be carried on only by sen- 
sible images ; and the more numerous, novel, and 
imposing, and at the same time adapted to their 
office, are the objects presented to their view, the 
more complete is their efifect upon their character 
and opinions. 

But very different is the effect upon differently 
constituted minds. The individual who has come 
to the conclusion, by a process of plain reasoning, 
that religion is a business of the heart, concerning 
alone that part of his being which is immortal and 



86 CEREMONIES AT ST. PETER's; 

invisible, cannot look without wonder at those rites 
which are clearly out of place in a system of wor- 
ship, which the best test, experience, has proved 
can subsist without them. But the feeling that is 
excited in his mind is more than this : contempt 
for those who can introduce into the house of God 
forms, accompanied with music and military dis- 
play, little, if anything removed from the repre- 
sentations of the opera. And even by the ma- 
jority of the spectators, native as well as stranger, 
these things are looked upon more as an im- 
posing pageant, as a gratification to the eye, 
than with any specific object of strengthening 
the tone of religious feeling, or improving the 
heart. 

As to devotion, generally speaking, it does not 
seem to be present; and that reverence which 
speaks from the features, but is principally visible 
in the eye, when man feels his humility, and ac- 
knowledges his dependence upon his Maker, is 
certainly only to be observed at that brief interval 
— a moment, however, which has everything added 
to invest it with greater solemnity — when the host 
is elevated, and, on these interesting occasions, by 
the Pope himself. 

The cardinals, who in great numbers are pre- 



THEIR EFFECTS. 



87 



sent, are engaged in chatting ; and the crowd, or 
the congregation who attend, discuss matters hav- 
ing no connexion with the spectacle before them — 
the news of their social circles, or the last tidings 
of importance from the two influential theatres of 
England and France. In short, it would appear 
to be enough to be present at these ceremonies,— 
a taking part in them does not seem to be re- 
garded as either necessary or indispensable. A 
virtue seems to flow from the pontifical presence, 
and a sacredness communicated from the place, of 
which all are partakers. As handkerchiefs and 
garments from St. Paul's person were miraculous 
in their effects, so does the successor of St. Peter 
impart a holiness to the air of his cathedral, which 
supersedes the necessity of prayer, and of which 
all who breathe feel their consciences lightened, 
and their hopes strengthened or increased. 

So unexpected by me was this absence, not of 
decorum, but of devotion, that I acquainted an 
English priest near me with my surprise. He 
answered, that the Italians find it hard to divest 
themselves of their flow of spirits — the undoubted 
heritage of the inhabitants of the South — even in 
their sacred things ; that this was a part of their 
national character, as that of our nation is a gra- 



88 



CHRISTMAS. 



vity, belonging not only to the sanctuary, but in- 
troduced more or less into the ordinary dealings 
between one another* 

This may be, to some extent, true. As soon as 
we get to the Continent, there is nothing that will 
be earlier remarked than the vivacity of our 
French neighbours; and this trait is, no doubt, 
surpassed by the gay and unrestrained feeling 
pervading the population of Italy's sunnier clime. 
But the contrast stole upon me unawares, as I 
looked at the splendid scene and gorgeous cere- 
mony before me, of the silent congregation of our 
own English churches, attentive to every word, 
and betraying in every look and gesture that spirit 
of devotion which is kindled by a feeling that they 
are then addressing that Being who holds their 
lives in the hollow of his hand, and fed by the 
reflection that their words are then ascending, like 
the evening incense, in thanks for the past, and 
firm reliance for the future. 

But to return to the subject of the present chap- 
ter. A little before nine o'clock on Christmas 
morning, one of the three great doors of St. Peter's, 
that nearest the Vatican Palace, opened, and a 
procession, without any parallel in my experience, 
entered from the stairs called " Scalse Sanctse." 



PROCESSION. 



89 



It was composed of a long retinue of cardinals, 
priests, and religious attendants ; in the midst of 
whom, the sun around whom these lesser planets 
all revolved, came the Pope himself. 

Gregory XVL, at the time that I had fre- 
quently an opportunity of observing him, ap- 
peared to be an old man, but he wore his age well. 
Although the via media'' between eighty and 
ninety had been passed, his form was still erect, 
and betrayed but little of the infirmity which 
usually follows in the footsteps of years. The fur- 
rows which generally mark the cheek of the aged 
were only perceptible ; and the decay of fire in his 
eye had left much remaining, evidencing equally 
acuteness and intelligence. Though he was old, 
yet was he " strong and lusty his age was like 
a lusty winter, frosty, but kindly." 

The dress of the Pope is rather chaste than 
splendid. It consists of an under robe of white 
satin; another of the same material, with a not 
very rich gold fringe, open in front, of the nature 
of a cossack, is thrown over, and reaches to the 
knees. Over this there is placed a tippet or hood, 
having the cross worked upon the ends, and pro- 
fusely ornamented with the Papal arm^ the keys. 
He wore white satiii shoes, having a small cross 



90 



PROCESSION. 



worked upon the front of each; they were as 
nicely made, and in every particular resembling 
those that a lady would appear in at a ball-room. 
He wore upon his head a small skull-cap of satin 
also, which was not removed during the entire time 
of his presence in St. Peter's. 

The cardinals entered first — the number present 
was about fifty, adding greatly to the interest and 
splendour of the scene by their magnificent dresses. 
Some wore mitres — by far the largest part: and a 
few the round skull-cap of crimson silk. The 
dress is a long and flowing robe of very fine crim- 
son cloth, with a train of silk of a somewhat paler 
hue, which is sometimes extended, and sweeps the 
ground ; at others, twisted by the chaplain within 
the smallest possible compass. Stockings of red 
silk, and black shoes with silver buckles, complete 
the figure. 

The dress of the bishops is satin, interspersed 
with gold lace, the figure of the cross being visible 
upon the back, and upon the extremities of a hood 
or robe depending from the shoulders. Each bears 
a large gold chain, from which hangs a cross of the 
same precious metal. The prelati^ or monsig- 
nores, — persons not necessarily bishops, — form also 
a part of the procession. They seem to be digni- 



GUARDIA NOBILE. 



91 



taries of the Church, or a higher order of the 
priesthood. They wear the vestments of an offici- 
ating priest, but are also distinguished by purple 
stockings. These have no trains; that of the 
cardinal sometimes hangs loosely on the ground, 
at other times presents the form of a rope. 

These altogether are very numerous, and form 
a long procession, in the centre of which, in a 
handsome chair or throne, his holiness is borne 
by several men, clad in crimson dresses with 
trousers fitting tightly to the leg. Those holding 
office in the Papal cabinet walk nearest his person 
— his prime minister, secretary, and chamberlain. 

The " guardia nobile " follows, always attending 
the Pope's person during the great festivals of the 
Church. This is a splendid body of officers and 
men, accoutred in the richest style, but an un- 
expected accompaniment to the establishment of 
a bishop of the Church, one of whose chief re- 
quisites is humility. They consist solely of the 
nobility of Rome. Privates and officers alike must 
be equally removed from plebeian blood. They 
make a fine appearance, and add not a little to the 
effect of the ecclesiastical display. Their uniform 
is a red coat covered with a profusion of lace, and 
white leather trousers, large boots, and cocked 



92 



PROCESSION. 



hat, being on the whole not unlike the dress of 
our staff officers. They have no duty but attend- 
ance upon his Holiness on the great festival 
days. Prince Barberini is the commander of the 
corps. 

An official bears an enormous fan, composed of 
feathers, which he occasionally waves to and fro 
for the purpose of cooling the air; and four others 
bear a splendid canopy of silk, which is raised 
above the Pope's head, and held still in that 
position as they solemnly pass on through the 
spacious and peerless aisle. 

The points of precedence are observed with 
great particularity, and some time is consumed in 
observing the necessary forms, both at the entry 
and departure from the cathedral. 

On these occasions there is usually a large 
attendance of troops in St. Peter's. On the pre- 
sent day there were two lines of grenadiers reach- 
ing from the door to the pontifical altar. Between 
these the procession moved slowly on to the 
chapel, which forms the farthest part of the cross 
of the ground-plan. There the place is cushioned 
and carpetted, and a throne raised for the Pope. 
The Pope then descends from his chair, and is 
led by two of the cardinals to the throne, where he 



SALUTATIONS. 



93 



at once assumes his seat. The noble guard " 
form lines on either side, and, what one would 
hardly expect in so august a presence, remain 
covered. The cardinals take their seats, and his 
chaplain at the foot of each, occupy a single 
bench reaching down either side of the high altar. 

As soon as all are seated, divers salutations 
take place between the cardinals. They bow 
to and embrace each other ; and this, unaccom- 
panied with any audible expression, gives them 
something of the appearance of automatons. They 
go one by one to pay homage, or to make their 
obeisance to the Pope, probably to renew their 
fealty, when his foot is reverently kissed by each. 
At this time part of the service goes on at the 
altar, but slowly, as if for the purpose of not inter- 
rupting the cardinals' duty to their superior. 

One is quite at a loss to conjecture what these 
bowings and salutations to each other have to say 
to a rite avowedly maintained as a part of the 
worship of God. No one except a spectator can 
have any idea of them. Matthews, in his "Diary," 
compares them, for which there was some excuse, 
to Noodle and Doodle in the play, and at the same 
time makes a remark, which one would hope is 
not founded in truth, that at the moment the deity 



94 



RULES AS TO FEMALES. 



that fills their hearts and occupies their thoughts 
is his hohness the Pope. 

To the right of the high altar, upon a tempo- 
rary platform, the choir of St. Peter's are present, 
and chaunt a long part of the service. The num- 
ber, however, is not large, nor the singing by any 
means so good as at the vespers on some of the 
great " eves," or in the Sistine Chapel. No 
organ or instrument of music lends its aid to their 
voices. 

To the right and also to the left of the same 
altar, but extending more towards the large aisle, 
and consequently rather distant from the Papal 
presence, enclosed seats are raised for the accom- 
modation of the ladies. These are almost exclu- 
sively kept for the '^forestierij^ 

All ladies who would presume to approach so 
holy an individual, and the great patron of celi- 
bacy, must conform to certain rules in order to be 
spectators upon these festivals. Particular atten- 
tion must be paid to dress ; black must be the 
prevailing colour. Bonnets are strictly forbidden 
— the reasons I could not learn but, instead, a 
black lace or muslin veil must be thrown over the 

* They are a modern contrivance ; probably tbey savour too much 
of the Reformation." 



SPLENDOUR OF THE DISPLAY. 95 



head. This, I suppose, is to shade their features, 
or to prevent the fascinating glances of the daugh- 
ters of England or France from having too great 
an effect Among those who have foresworn the 
sex, for ladies to appear in all their loveliness 
might risk the breach of vows ; and, as one looks 
at the sun without danger through a smoked glass, 
so the veil has been well devised to counteract 
any mischief that might accrue from the blaze of 
bright or blue eyes. 

The whole spectacle is now particularly inter- 
esting, and cannot be easily forgotten by those 
who have been fortunate enough to witness 
it. The importance of the personages, the novelty 
and variety of the costume, where the dress of the 
Italian peasant has something equally character- 
istic with that of the princes of the Church, cannot 
fail to make a lasting impression even upon the 
inattentive observer. 

The scene is also not wanting in the magnificence 
which attends the best European courts. Upon 
a long bench are the ambassadors of nearly all the 
kingdoms of Europe, clad in superb uniforms, the 
representative of each monarch bearing upon his 
breast the orders which he has obtained from his 
master's hand. 



96 DOUBLE CHARACTER OF THE POPE. 

It is, in fact, the holding of a court rather than 
a service of the Church. The Bishop of Rome 
truly presides at the altar, but beside him is the 
tiara ; he wears the mitre, but he is the crowned 
head of the best part of Italy. It is an odd 
anomaly, the union of the civil and the sacred 
sword, the carnal and the spiritual things blended 
together in a manner without precedent and without 
parallel. There is an intertwining of the kingdom 
which is of this world with that which is not, 
which leaves one in great difficulty to discover how 
the several parts can be managed to adhere, or 
by what means they have been dovetailed together. 
The time may arrive, probably, when the Italians 
may make the distinction between regal and epis- 
copal duties. The present order of things has 
gone on so long, and has been so admirably man- 
aged, — which the most powerful feelings in the 
human heart have been enlisted to promote, — that 
they have neither the time nor the inclination to 
examine whether they are in the possession of the 
shadow or the substance of freedom. 

Yet these are the descendants of the Romans, 
who bend obediently to the Pontiff's arm ? They 
that kept the world in subjection are succeeded 
in their soil by a still noble but unambitious race. 



REVERENCE PAID TO THE POPE. 97 



Power has passed away from them ; their empire 
has shrunk to but a small dominion; and in its 
present state it exhibits but few of those glorious 
institutions of freedom, found under the kings, the 
( onsuls, or even the emperors. But who shall say 
what advances in national prosperity and indivi- 
dual happiness await them under the wise guid- 
ance of a ruler such as now occupies the Palace 
of the Vatican ? 

But the scene is, indeed, well calculated to drive 
all other emotions out of the mind. The noble 
temple, which is at once the tomb of " the Prince 
of the Apostles"* and the cathedral of his suc- 
cessor, is before you, filled by a personage who has 
played so important a part in the interests of the 
world — to whom millions look up with a feeling 
kindred more to devotion than respect — who is the 
keystone in that ecclesiastical arch, which has its 
materials throughout the habitable w^orld, — the 
prince, the head of the Church ! How many are 
looking upon him with aw^e and reverence, with 
feelings very different from that with which we 

* So the Catholics think, and Peter is so called in the dedication 
on the exterior of the church. However, an authority higher than 
that of the Pope, the Scriptures, tells us that there was no 
supremacy, but a perfect equality among the apostles of our Lord. 

F 



98 REVERENCE PAID TO THE POPE. 

contemplate kings ! The latter may commute 
or forgive offences against the laws of the state, 
but this not only resides within the power of the 
Pope, but the sins against a higher tribunal are 
forthwith effaced from the conscience by the ^'absolvo 
te^' of the possessor of the Vatican. This feeling 
will account for the crowds the occasion has called 
together, and for the silent attention which per- 
vades the multitude. 

The appearance of the whole church is now 
particularly striking. Groups are formed through 
various parts of the immense building, some con- 
sidering carefully a picture or statue, or resting 
impatiently until the procession shall be again 
formed. Occasionally your eye will rest upon the 
attendants of the cardinals, carrying the wide- 
leaved red hat, with its tassels hanging loosely 
down, and their cloak of the same gaudy colour. 
The Inglese are also very numerous, apparently 
tired out and anxious for the close. Here were 
to be seen several of her Majesty's uniforms of the 
regiments of the line, staff-dresses, or those of the 
county deputy-lieutenants. These uniforms are 
particularly useful on the Continent, and are a 
passport to everything in church or palace. 

But by half-past twelve o'clock high mass is 



PAPAL BENEDICTION. 



99 



concluded, and his holiness ascends, with a firm 
step, the pontifical altar, while the thousands 
present fall on their knees, and the military lower 
their arms. He stretches out his arms towards 
the vast multitude, and in a loud and sonorous 
voice pronounces his blessing. There is then a mo- 
ment's pause ; but soon the din is heard again, and 
all parties prepare to leave St. Peter's, and the 
cardinals, &c. to take their allotted places in the 
closing procession. 

The procession is formed in the same manner as 
in the morning. The space between the military 
is speedily filled by ecclesiastics ; the cardinals, 
in great number and variety, with their trains well 
twisted, attended by their chaplains, each bearing 
a mitre, take their posts. The Pope's chair is in 
readiness, and he soon ascends it, smiling com- 
placently upon those who are near him. The 
canopy and the fan are erected, and bishops, 
priests, and sacristans follow in the rear. Now 
the mitre is removed from the Pope's head, and a 
crown or tiara is placed thereon. He for a while 
takes leave of the bishop, and appears in the 
character of a temporal prince, or crowned head. 
This crown is not showy ; the groundwork is 
white silk, upon which are many diamonds and 

F 2 



100 CLOSE OF THE PROCESSION. 

some other gems : there is but little gold. The 
top is surmounted by a cross of brilliants. 

As the Pope is carried through the throng, slowly 
and solemnly, his hands are ever moving, form- 
ing the sign of the cross in the air as he passes 
along. There are not less than five hundred 
ecclesiastics in this procession ; and v^^hen the no- 
velty and splendour of the dresses are considered, 
the effect of the display may be judged of. The 
gigantic roof of St. Peter's is spread above, and 
the lofty dome hangs over all as a canopy. The 
gorgeous embellishments of the pillars and walls 
also lend their effect to this matchless spec- 
tacle. But the door is now gained, and with 
the same order and silence the procession files off 
to the Vatican on the right. The Pope retires, 
and the cardinals one by one drive away in their 
showy and splendid equipages. 



GIORNO DI PASCHA. 



101 



CHAPTER VI. 

CEREMONIES AT EASTER. — THE POPE RECEIVES THE EUCHARIST 

SITTING. — ELEVATION OF THE HOST. THE POPE BLESSES THE 

PEOPLE FROM THE BALCONY OF ST. PETER'S. — CHURCH OF THE 

AUGUSTINES. — IMAGE OF THE VIRGIN, IS MUCH CELEBRATED. 

— ITS OFFERINGS. 

The ceremonies upon the Giorno di Pascha 
(Easter Sunday) are very similar to those which 
take place at Christmas. The same part of St. 
Peter's is fitted up, and the same accommodation 
provided for all who are disposed to attend. But 
upon this occasion there is rather more pomp in the 
procession, and the cardinals are more numerous. 
The great central portal is also thrown open, the 
only occasion throughout the whole year, to admit, 
as it were, the Pope triumphing by reason of the 
resurrection of our Lord. 

The whole troops of the garrison also attend, 
each with their very fine bands. Of these a con- 
siderable number are to be found within the walls, 



102 



PAPAL TROOPS. 



but the majority are drawn up in lines in the 
piazza in front. These have their colours, and 
all the implements of war. The dresses of the 
troops are beautiful, and in this respect they 
make up for the want of spirit which is said 
to characterise the Papal army. They look 
martial, although they are not so. They are not 
present for the purpose of checking an emeute^ 
but for the purpose of display. A finer-looking 
body of men, and better accoutred, it would be 
impossible to find; but still they are lamentably 
deficient in the characteristics of an army — energy 
and resolution. They are the descendants of the 
conquerors of the worlds so that climate or blood 
has not degenerated them. 

It must not, however, strike us with surprise 
that the army of a spiritual ruler — kept not so 
much for the purpose of preventing aggression, 
as for keeping its own population within bounds 
— should be deficient in those characteristics 
which are found among more enterprising and 
powerful nations. The offices of peace have 
been more successfully cultivated than those of 
war, and the minds of the people more directed to 
the church than the camp. Rome, too, generally 
endeavours to prevail more by moral force than 



APPEARANCE OF ST. PETER's. 103 



physical power. Hence this department has, of 
course, been neglected; but it by no means implies, 
that, if it became necessary, and due care were 
taken, her soldiers would be found deficient in 
virtue or valour. 

The Papal ensign floats on the Castle of St. 
Angelo, once the mausoleum of Adrian ; and 
already a few guns announce that the ceremonies 
are about to commence — the tomb, as it were, 
opening its mouth to herald in the day. Shortly 
after the procession forms, and is seen slowly 
descending the Scalae Sanctse ; in the midst of whom 
the Supreme Pontiff* occupies his usual elevated 
position, attended by his ministers and cardinals. 
They soon enter the great portal, pass along the 
noblest hall in all the world, and all take their 
allotted seats. The coup d'ceil is very imposing. 
The ecclesiastics of all ranks are much more 
numerous than upon Christmas Day, and, as is 
always the case during the Santa Settemana^ the 
attendance of foreigners greatly augmented. The 
ambassadors' seats are filled with the representa- 
tives of the courts of Europe ; while the military 
and clerical habits, in a peaceful union blended, 
meet the eye at every turn of the cathedral. The 
choir are in their places, and one of the most 



104 THE POPE RECEIVES THE EUCHARIST. 

distant balconies is occupied by the best regimental 
band, whose music is heard, however, but at one 
moment during the entire service. 

There is little or no variety in the ceremonies. 
The cardinals kiss and salute each other as usual, 
and they each renew their homage to the Pope. 
Their chaplains sit at the feet of each, in look and 
gesture evidencing the most complete obedience. 
High mass commences, a cardinal and some 
bishops assisting. Occasionally the fine and clear 
voices of the choir chaunt some of the parts, 
coming upon the ear with a full effect through the 
massive halls. 

In Italy every one is born a musician, so that it 
is an easy matter to obtain first-rate artists; but 
the Pope's choirs have always had the character of 
the highest excellence. At one time their united 
voices come so as to almost overwhelm you ; at 
another moment, the sweet clear tones of a single 
individual speak to the feeUngs, as if we were 
addressed by a being of another world. 

I remarked upon the altar some splendid com- 
munion plate. The chalice is gold, and set with 
gems, and is a present, as I learned, from the last 
of the Stuarts.* This day is remarkable on 

* Who was in orders, and a Cardinal at Rome. 



ELEVATION OF THE HOST. 105 

account of the Pope receiving the eucharist. It is 
an interesting spectacle, as his method of receiving 
it diflFers from all the world. It is usual to receive 
the elements in a reverential posture, and so do 
nearly all denominations of Christians. But the 
Pope, presuming upon his intimacy with our Lord, 
from his office of vicegerent, always receives it 
sitting. The cardinal who officiated at the altar, and 
the bishop, approached his Holiness, bearing the 
paten and chalice. The Pope received with much 
apparent devotion, but with a vast deal of cere- 
mony. As they approached and retired from him, 
they bowed repeatedly. During all this time there 
was a solemn silence, and all were attentive. None 
of the cardinals or other officials present were com- 
municants. It seemed to be enough for all that 
his Holiness should partake of it. 

The part of the service of the day, however, 
which was particularly solemn and impressive, was 
the elevation of the host. For this purpose, 
Gregory XVI. was conducted from his chair of state 
to the high altar. When he had repeated some 
prayers, he laid his hands on the vessel which con- 
tains the host : immediately the vast multitude, 
military, priests, and people, bent on their knees 

F 5 



106 ELEVATION OF THE HOST. 



to the earth. A deep silence followed. The 
Pope slowly lifted up the host, while a burst of 
instrumental music from a distant part of the 
church produced a startling effect. 

Nothing could be more remarkable and imposing 
than the scene at this moment. The thousands 
who are present, some of whom a little before were 
engaged in devotion, some in conversation, seemed 
rivetted to the earth under the influence of one 
feeling; the figure of the Pope alone standing 
erect, with his snowy hair stealing from under 
the mitre, dressed in his gorgeous robes, with his 
hands uplifted, containing what was by him and 
them conceived the very body of their Lord. The 
people looked as though they had been stricken 
or paralysed by disease, and he, as another Moses, 
bidding them look upon him and be healed. 
Motion, nay, almost life, seemed to have left them, 
while their high priest appeared alone to live, 
stretching out his hands to heaven in their behalf. 
The Pope was now seen to great advantage. He 
seemed to be engrossed in his work. Decision and 
devotion marked the lines of his features ; he 
looked as though he had an onerous task confided 
to him, and that it was all-important that he should 
discharge it well. 



AN IMPOSING RITE. 



107 



A ceremony such as this, conducted with the 
most laboured regard to effect, is very apt inde- 
Ubly to impress weakly constituted minds. At 
these very moments, overwhelmed as much by 
the novelty as the grandeur of the spectacle, the 
affections are won to this religion of pageantry 
and parade, and the resolution is perhaps formed to 
henceforth take refuge in its bosom. The senses 
are fascinated, and the reason becomes with them 
a willing victim. They assert at once that it is the 
splendour only of truth^ — the magnificence worthy 
of Jehovah. But if that mind could for a moment 
hesitate, and examine upon what weak founda- 
tions the whole system is built, the conclusion 
arrived at might be very different. That vessel, 
held with such care for the veneration of those 
around, contains only the simple substance of 
bread, if the testimony of the senses is to be 
depended on, and not the word of the priest. It 
is not the element itself that is so valuable, as the 
spirit with which it is approached. But religion, 
in its two great branches, — external and internal, — 
will always have its two classes of votaries. They 
who neglect the heart, will make up the defect by 
ample concessions to sense, and vice versa. The 
latter will avail themselves of as many ceremonies 



108 THE POPE BLESSES THE PEOPLE 

as are necessary to maintain religion, and not to 
overwhelm it under an unseemly load. 

Immediately after the elevation the procession 
is formed, and the Pope and his splendid retinue 
retire from St. Peter's. The ceremony of the day, 
however, has not yet closed. All are anxious to 
obtain a place upon the steps in front of the portico, 
or at least a place in the piazza, as the Pope upon 
this day is accustomed to bless the people from the 
great balcony. 

Probably one-fourth of the population, on these 
occasions, is to be found in the front of St. Peter's. 
The peasantry, with their picturesque dresses, 
checquer the crowd, having come in from many miles 
around the city. The regular clergy, with their 
peculiar habits, are seen at hand in great numbers, 
shewing by their looks and demeanour a great 
anxiety to participate in the expected blessing. 
The gay uniforms of the military relieve the darker 
dresses of the crowd, and their arms, polished to 
perfection, glitter in the dazzling sunshine. Ban- 
ners wave in the Vatican circus— hurrying the 
mind back involuntarily to the cohorts and cen- 
turies of other days. Here and there a mother 
holds her children in her arms, and her eyes are 
ever fixed upon the place where his Holiness is to 



FROM THE BALCONY. 109 

appear; while the foreigners, French, English, 
and Russian, evincing more curiosity than devo- 
tion, are fully as desirous as the natives to obtain 
good places, and to watch the exciting scene to 
its close. 

After tw^enty minutes had elapsed, the venerable 
figure of the Pope was descried, and forthwith all 
the great multitude fell upon their knees. The po- 
sition he occupied was so elevated that it was almost 
impossible to catch his words ; but he stretched out 
his hands towards them, and pronounced the bene- 
diction, imploring that the blessings of Heaven 
might rest upon them. His heart was in his words, 
and he looked down, as well with affection as 
with authority, upon the people who acknowledged 
him as at once their prince and priest. 

One of the cardinals then threw down a few 
indulgences," for which there was a complete 
scramble. The people arose from their knees with 
lighter hearts and brighter eyes ; the peasantry 
with a quick step returned to their abodes, and the 
mother joyfully led away her children, who had 
probably, for the first time, been blessed by the 
Pope. 

The church of the Augustines is in the Via 
Augustini. It belongs to the monks of that name. 



110 CHURCH OF THE AUGUSTINES. 

who have their principal establishment here. It is 
an extensive and not unornamental structure. The 
revenues are very rich, arising chiefly from offer- 
ings of the worshipers at the shrine of the Virgin. 
At some time or other you will find the various 
churches deserted, the congregation being reduced 
to the curate or the sacristan, but it seems to be a 
continual festival in the Chiesa di Augustini. Aged 
men and well-dressed women are ever arriving or 
retiring, and a goodly number are always to be found 
on their knees. The reason is, that the church 
is peculiarly sacred to the Virgin, and wonders have 
been worked, it is said, by her interposition. 

The church is interesting, as it contains many 
monuments and pictures ; the interior of the dome, 
also, being admirably painted. But the object 
which is sure to attract the especial notice of the 
stranger is the altar of the Virgin. There are 
several others, but that appropriated to her is the 
most frequented and remarkable. Placed upon it 
— the altar being the pedestal — is a well-executed 
marble statue of the Virgin. It is clearly not of 
a modern date; it bears the usual likeness, not 
the madre addoloratd''' that lives in the canvas 
of Guercino, but bland and encouraging. The 
drapery is good and correct ; but we find upon it 



IMAGE OF THE VIRGIN. 



Ill 



several valuable offerings of gold, silver, and gems. 
The bosom is covered with a splendid diamond 
necklace, and earrings of the same costly stone 
depend from the ears, presented, doubtless, by 
some wealthy or noble house. 

I spent a long time looking at the worshipers 
in this temple. As soon as they enter, they at 
once repair to the Virgin's shrine, make their 
obeisance, repeat their prayers, and conclude with 
an affectionate kiss upon the foot of the statue, at 
the same time dropping a piece of money into a 
small box near at hand. It is singular with what 
reverence they approach ; it could hardly be more if 
the Virgin herself were present. The crowds that 
frequent this place, and perform their devotions 
here, may be judged of from the fact that their 
kisses have actually worn out the original foot 
(the right), and the monks of the Augustinian 
fraternity have been under the necessity of re- 
placing it with one of brass, the latter metal being 
probably the most abundant in the convent. 

This would hardly be believed, but is a fact, 
and incontrovertible. It is not the only statue 
which has in part disappeared by the frequent 
kisses of the faithful — so singularly sincere are they 
in this lip-service. This was a caution equally 



112 WORSHIP OF THE VIRGIN. 



wise and justifiable, that the coffers of the church 
might not suffer diminution, and that the part so 
sacred might not cease to communicate its virtue. 

The contemplation of this spectacle is calcu- 
lated to raise an inquiry as to the nature and ten- 
dency of the Roman Catholic religion. Far be it 
from me to imagine that they have so far deviated 
from the path of truth, as to have engrafted upon 
Christianity pagan practices. I am sure they think 
the religion that they have had handed down to 
them too pure and too perfect, to require such 
anomalous aids ; too simple, to be incorporated 
with superstition ; and, above all, too true, to suffer 
any admixture with error. But I will simply de- 
tail what I saw — what is always to be seen in this 
church ; and doubts, I fear, may be entertained whe- 
ther these reflections are fully borne out. To 
accuse them of idolatry, I should be sorry. I will 
mention only patent facts ; and if such a charge 
may be at all hinted, it is their fault, not mine. 

The act of worship was undoubtedly paid to an 
image, a correct resemblance of the human form, 
chiselled by human art. Part of that image was 
reverently kissed. Orisons were breathed, sins 
confessed, and offerings were given. They bent 
before it, apparently telling the secrets of their 



WORSHIP OF THE VIRGIN. 



lis 



hearts, asking forgiveness, pleading their requests, 
or demanding strength. Their eyes were fixed 
upon the moulded marble; to the spectator dis- 
closing the state of the heart fully as well as the 
language of the lips. Submission, dependence, 
entreaty, were legibly written there. Looking to 
it, it seemed as though it was deemed cognisant of 
their thoughts, capable of appreciating their ser- 
vice. The worshipers also, no doubt, retired 
with hearts easier and consciences lighter. 

It may be said that none of that worship rested 
on the image, that it flowed from the type to the 
prototype, that it only represented a being to their 
minds in another place, and that, consequently, 
they are not justly chargeable with the act of idol- 
worship. Unquestionably to the educated and the 
learned practices so gross and indefensible cannot 
be imputed. I cannot for a moment imagine that 
the mind enlarged by study, or enlightened by 
prayer, would condescend to so puerile a practice. 
But with the great majority, the ignorant and un- 
reflecting multitude, were these distinctions pre- 
sent? Religion to them has been ever one of 
sensible images, and probably spirituality has never 
influenced their worship. When they invoke the 
statue, it is a question whether their thoughts are 



114 



OFFERINGS. 



not circumscribed by its canopy. In the pomp of 
dress, in the glare of gems and gold, with the 
attending priests, and all the other parts which 
come in to arrest and engage the mind, did their 
thoughts at all wander beyond the marble repre- 
sentation of the human figure before which they 
knelt ? 

The fame of the statue is very great, and upon 
festival days no church in Rome has a more nu- 
merous congregation. They are not confined to 
persons residing within the parish, but the religious 
from various quarters of the city attend. The 
appearance of the church is very peculiar. Upon 
the lower part of the walls, the backs of the doors, 
and, in fact, upon every available space, ofiferings 
or testimonials to the Virgin of some sort or other 
are placed. In many cases these are hearts made 
of thin plates of silver, and in others are well- 
executed paintings of various curious scenes. As 
I was looking at both with an examinative eye, I 
ventured to ask a priest who happened to be near 
what they meant. He at once answered, that they 
were presented by persons who, suffering either by 
sickness or accident, had vowed something to the 

Santa Maria^^ during their illness or danger, and 
upon recovery there attested the fulfilment of their 



EX VOTO PICTURES. 



115 



vows.* The priest remarked that the persons had 
been cured or healed the intercession" of the 
Virgin. 

The pictures were sometimes grave, sometimes 
grotesque, but, I have no doubt, were suggested by 
facts. (I should have mentioned that they are 
generally small.) Here you might see an unfor- 
tunate mason tumbling to the ground — " vires acqui- 
rens eundo " — from a lofty building, the ladder 
having given way ; here a poor driver with his leg 
under a heavy waggon, the vicious horse alter- 
nately elevating his legs, and looking as if he 
would never stop till he had dispossessed himself 
of the vehicle piecemeal. Again, you might dis- 
cover a ship tossed in a tempest, the sea all surge, 
and the men, like true Italian sailors, not guiding 
the helm or trimming their bark, but pale with 
terror and on their knees. Then, from the 
chapter of accidents to that of sickness : you 
might behold a poor patient recumbent in bed, 
bottles and pills in abundance, with features deeply 
dyed with gamboge or yellow fever. Rencontres 
with brigands are also to be found ; guns making 
fearful destruction, and stilettos sticking to the 
hilt, where those heartless inhabitants of the forest 

* Called ex voto pictures." 



116 



EX VOTO PICTURES. 



or the mountain had left them. A person at first 
sight would be inclined to ^think half of them 
incurable ; but the greater the peril, the greater 
the honour to the church of the Augustines. 

These, accompanied as they always are by more 
or less scudi Romania are always welcome to the 
brotherhood. They are at once unquestionable 
evidences of their patroness's power, and proofs of 
the worshipers'* gratitude. I have observed that 
these are never taken down ; and where there must 
be a rivalry among so many churches, since a sort 
of miraculous power is thus arrogated, the priest 
of the fane evidently looks up with pride to these 
honourable records. 

These singular offerings are not confined to this 
church, but are to be found in many others. This 
church of the Augustines is in the neighbourhood 
of the post-office, and not far from the Corso. 



PROCESSIONS. 



117 



CHAPTER VII. 

PROCESSION OF THE CIRCUMCISION. — ESPOSITIONE DELLA SANTA 
VIRGINE. — A WOODEN IMAGE IS BORNE ALONG. CLERICAL CON- 
VERTS. — PROBABLE ORIGIN OF THE PROCESSION.— PROCESSION 
OF THE HOST. 

A PRINCIPAL part of the religious mechanism 
of Rome is the procession. As the name imports, 
it consists of a crowd of ecclesiastics and laymen, 
who make a progress through the city upon certain 
occasions with great pomp and circumstance. That 
of the host is common to other Catholic countries 
as well as Italy; but upon certain anniversaries 
these solemn processions peculiar to Rome take 
place, in which either a sacred banner, statue, or 
relic is borne along. They are numerously at- 
tended by both priests and people : by the latter 
this is esteemed as much a duty as attendance at 
church. The priests lead the front, bearing in a 
sacred band whatever the Church sends into public; 
they all wear their surplices and vestments. The 



118 



THE CIRCUMCISION. 



people go generally uncovered. They are ordered 
by the Church for the special purpose of keeping 
religion alive among the people, as well as to im- 
press them with the importance of their spiritual 
guides. Frequently, on these occasions, an elo- 
quent monk or curate ascends a rostrum, and 
addresses with great vehemence and fervour his 
moveable congregation. Whether one wills it or 
not, he must become a listener, as the crowd for 
the most part blocks up the street. However, 
there is no fear of falling asleep, as drones are 
excluded from this oflSce, and the address is gene- 
rally energetic and short. 

It was on the Circumcision, January 1, 184 — , 
that my progress in the Strada de due Marcelli was 
arrested by the procession of the day. It was 
headed by twelve priests, apparently not above the 
rank of rector, in their officiating dresses. Then 
came some religious attendants, or Church officers, 
bearing a painting of the Virgin, and behind them a 
black crucifix of moderate dimensions. Some large 
wax candles were also carried, although in the face 
of day. 

As soon as the whole group had turned the 
corner of the Collegio di Propaganda Fede^ the 
person with the picture of the Virgin drew near. 



A PRIEST STREET PREACHER. 119 



and they stopped : a table which they carried was 
arranged as a temporary pulpit, which a priest 
having ascended, he began to address the multi- 
tude. My knowledge of the Italian at the time 
was not very perfect, but sufficient to observe the 
scope of his discourse, and to what subjects he 
drew the attention of his hearers. The manner of 
the preacher was unquestionably sincere, as it was 
warm; his voice firm and commanding, and his 
action theatrical to a great degree. The Virgin 
was held on his right hand; to it during his dis- 
course, with all vehemence and earnestness, he 
pointed. " Santissima Maria " was the theme, the 
beginning and the ending of his address, while far 
behind, unmentioned and unnoticed, was the cru- 
cifix. As he urged the topic of repentance, and 
pointed out the fitness of the day, commencing a 
new year, for reformation and amendment, he 
dwelt little upon the name of God, but that of the 
Virgin repeatedly occurred. Santissima Mavia^^ 
ever and anon, in the language of the sweet south, 
fell on the ear from the not inharmonious voice of 
the speaker. The name of " Gesu " was but once 
or twice during the whole time mentioned. To the 
Virgin he pointed while he bade them date a new life 
from this period; to her he pointed while he asked 



120 A PRIEST STREET PREACHER. 



them to hope for the happiness of heaven. Upon 
her he turned his eyes, full and significant as they 
were, while bewailing the sins and guilt of his 
hearers : he invoked her protection, or implored her 
intercession. And as he concluded with a blessing 
that they might improve in Christian perfection, 
and attend the duties of the Church, to the picture 
he looked affectionately, imploring that that bless- 
ing might be confirmed. 

The effect of this address upon the hearers was 
the usual one upon like occasions. Some appeared 
to take w^hat he said to heart, and to profit by the 
occasion ; while others hurried off to their occu- 
pations, right well pleased that the preacher had 
made such short work of it. It seems to be hardly 
possible to impress with seriousness the younger 
part of an Italian auditory. On these occasions 
they look Uke chained antelopes; but the more 
staid and elder part appear to regard the business 
with due decorum and becoming spirit. 

Having received these impressions from those 
around me, I observed the speaker suddenly close 
his harangue. He descended from his temporary 
pulpit. The crowd dispersed, and the priests took 
their former place — leading the way. The picture 
of the Virgin was carried before them, and the 



ESPOSITIONE DELLA VIRGINE. 121 



crucifix, as usual, took up its place behind. They 
moved on, and passed from my view, to address in 
some other street the populace of Rome. 

It was about the middle of March, when the 
days at Rome begin to assume the heat of our 
summer, — and this particular, no less than the 
entire absence of those easterly winds so severely 
felt at home, convinces us of the genial climate of 
the south of Europe, — that I was on the look-out for 
one of the chief processions which annually takes 
place. It was kept holy-day. The people were 
arrayed in their best clothes. The scultore laid 
aside his fustian suit, and il pittore his bedaubed 
garments, each bearing indications of their re- 
spective professions ; while many of the peasantry 
were to be seen in the streets — the men with their 
tawny visages and slouched hats, and the women 
equally dark, but set off to the best advantage with 
the white head-dress, gaudy stomacher, and bor- 
dered gown. Ponderous earrings and brooches 
shewed that their condition was not bad, even 
though the material were pinchbeck. It was easy 
to distinguish the citizen from the country women ; 
the former are quite fair, the narrow streets and 
lofty houses keeping off the sun's rays, and serving 
to preserve their complexions. The windows of 

G 



122 



ESPOSITIONE DELLA 



the houses were thrown open, from which depended 
draperies of various designs and hues. Curtains 
and carpets, dissimilar in length and pattern, un- 
dulated in the breeze. One might have thought 
every house a haberdasher's shop, and that 
a ruinous competition was going on amongst 
them. 

Every window was open, and in many cases 
already occupied ; the persons in them displaying 
by their uneasy motions and anxious looks, how 
much alive their curiosity was. Several false 
alarms were given^ as a more than usual crowd 
appeared, or a cardinal's carriage rolled along the 
stone-paved streets. On these occasions the beau- 
ties of modern Rome disclosed their dark eyes and 
darker tresses to the passenger, as they leaned out 
to catch the first glimpse of the expected pageant. 

From the appearance of the city, the gay dresses 
of the crowd, and the no less novel draperies of the 
houses, combined with the attention universally 
displayed, it seemed as if all parties united to do 
the highest honour to some sovereign prince or 
national benefactor. It suggested to me the idea 
of a triumph of old, which was wont to tread the 
way to the Capitol, when the matrons or the 
daughters of Rome cast flowers in the path of the 



SANTA VIRGINE. 



123 



elated victor. Probably the houses wore this very 
same appearance on those great days of ovation; 
and as the procession passed, it would only want 
the shouts that rent the air to complete the 
parallel. One would have thought, from observ- 
ing the multitude, that they regarded it as an evil 
of very serious magnitude if it should escape un- 
noticed. They do, indeed, conceive that a salu- 
tary effect ensues from partaking in these services 
of the Church, just as the lower orders of the Irish 
attend every funeral in the neighbourhood, think- 
ing it to be a meritorious duty. 

After due delay, at length, I espied the proces- 
sion coming from a street that connects the Propa- 
ganda with the Corso. Several men in blue calico 
habits led the way, and seemed to be the pioneers. 
A large and lofty image of the Virgin was borne 
upon a platform by a considerable number of men. 
Its weight was considerable, as they sweated under 
the load. It was, as I afterwards discovered, the 
altar-piece of a neighbouring parish church. The 
execution of the figure was good, and it wore that 
bland and patronising look equally illustrative of 
condescension and power. It was painted in gaudy 
colours — the eternal sky-blue and rich crimson, 
which are so misplaced in all the religious pic- 

G 2 



124 



THE PROCESSION. 



tures. There was a crown of tinsel upon the 
head — the emblem of empire ; and the hands were 
stretched forth either in a posture of supplication 
or blessing. 

To this image much virtue is attached ; al- 
though not so durable as the several marble sta- 
tues, it shares equally with them the confidence of 
priest and people. Although the espositione takes 
place but on one day of the year, the clergy do 
not hesitate to parade it through the streets as 
a sort of palladium in times of trouble or danger. 
Many interesting things are, no doubt, connect- 
ed with its history — the cures wrought by it, &c. 
— could we only learn them. Be this as it may, 
it was borne with as much pomp, and guarded 
with as much care, as was of old the celebrated 
safeguard of Troy. 

The priests in the procession were very nume- 
rous, consisting of rectors, canons, and curates. 
None of the fraternities were present. The priests 
wore their vestments — those with which they usu- 
ally celebrate high-mass. I recognised some, also, 
with the yellow cloak shot with silk and gold, bear- 
ing upon the back a large impression of the cross. 
They also wore those small caps, which, because I 
suppose we usually associate them with children, 



STOP AT THE CONVENTS. 125 



looked anything but ecclesiastical. Several of the 
cardinals' servants were present in their rich live- 
ries, representing no doubt their masters, after the 
same manner that empty carriages are sent to 
funerals, while the proprietors eat or sleep at 
home. 

Many young men walked by the side of the 
Virgin, in white dresses fringed with lace, which 
reached as far as the knee. These were probably 
young men about to be admitted into the priest- 
hood, or who had already received some of the initi- 
atory orders. They bore large flambeaux of wax, 
which in the bright sunshine emitted but a sickly 
glare. The great luminary, one would have 
thought, was enough to hght them on their way, 
but like other things in their system, the gifts of 
Heaven are not sufficient, but its records must be 
read and interpreted by human light. 

At the monasteries and convents the whole 
body arrested its movements as soon as the Virgin 
arrived opposite the door. The bearers then 
placed her fronting the religious edifice, while the 
priests commenced ^a short service, consisting of 
prayer, and concluded with a brief address. I 
observed that the whole company knelt and were 
uncovered ; a custom with which, for the sake of 



126 



CLERICAL CONVERTS. 



the people's feelings and prepossessions, it is 
necessary for even strangers in some degree 
to comply. 

The spectacle was extraordinary, and I found 
it difficult to reconcile to myself that it was a 
Christian observance, or that the worship of the 
Supreme Being had any connexion with it. Such 
things at Benares or Pekin would not strike us 
with surprise, but to the Englishman they are 
marvellous, accustomed to modest Romanism at 
home. He is more incHned to conclude that it 
is another form of religion than that which noise- 
lessly exists at Liverpool and London. However, 
the Roman Cathohc religion would be the same 
everywhere, if they were possessed of the power. 
The provinces would " do as Rome does " if th^ 
priests were paramount. The latter, probably, 
look forward to the day when the Metropolis shall 
witness such processions as those I have described ; 
and they think they have gone a step in the right 
direction, when, Prohpudor /" some of the clergy 
of our Church, caught by the tinsel of statues, and 
fascinated by the splendour qf ceremonies, have 
thrown away the Bible and taken up the breviary. 
The desertion is to be deplored, but the deserters 
are to be pitied. Such are always suspected in the 



THE PROCESSION. 



127 



camp. Do they deserve a better fate in the Church ? 
The " marks" of a true Church have called them 
away to Rome. The ''mark" of truth is sim- 
plicity ; it only becomes suspected by being 
buried under a load of observance and ceremonial.* 
They can only bear v^hat is old and honoured by 
time: like those who make collections and mu- 
seums, they can admit nothing but antiques. 
But how old is the procession and veneration for 
images? Not coeval with Christianity, nor to 
be found in the primitive Church. Centuries had 
passed away, the religion had become old, before the 
Italians revived those obsolete customs of their 
pagan progenitors. Then age after age added 
something to the body of the Church, as it suited 
the expediency of the times or the invention of 
the Popes, till we see it deformed and defaced as it 
is to be found at Rome. 

When the service was concluded at the mo- 
nastery, the procession was again in motion, and 
passed down the Corso, every moment adding to 
its numbers. Every individual whom they met 
removed at once his hat, and remained uncovered 
until all had passed on. 

* To it we may apply what is said of beauty : — 

Beauty when unadorn'd, adorn'd the most." 



128 



A PARALLEL. 



It was impossible for me, as I beheld this reli- 
gious spectacle, to refrain from comparing it with 
some of the ceremonies of other climes, upon which 
the light of Christianity has not so deeply pene- 
trated as to remove the darkness which involves 
the mass of their inhabitants. In the case before 
me, as in those to which I allude, an eflScacy or 
virtue seems to accompany, or to reside within, the 
image. It was in both not only an object of in- 
terest but of duty to swell the numbers that at- 
tended, and to join in the showy rites in the pro- 
gression from temple to temple. The respect in 
both cases appeared to a great extent to be similar, 
and we only required one or two additional circum- 
stances to complete the parallel. 

Let me put a case: suppose a native of the 
African wild, a stranger to the arts of civilization, 
and equally ignorant of revelation, and of its effects 
upon the European continent, were a spectator of 
the scene : it may well be asked what impression it 
would be likely to produce upon him. Himself 
accustomed to worship his rudely carved deities, or 
figures designed to represent the human form, with 
the priests ministering around the figure of the 
Virgin, with the people upon their knees near 
at hand, attention evident amongst all, devotion 



A PARALLEL. 



129 



in every eye, is it unlikely that he would regard it 
as a kindred religion ? imputing the perfection of 
the figure, to which all seemed to pay homage, to 
improvement in the arts, and to the skill, of which 
he had numberless evidences around him, of the 
inhabitants of the country. Could it be inferred, 
or is it at all probable, that this ceremony of a 
Christian church would be likely to raise correct 
ideas in this person's mind, or approaching cor- 
rectness, concerning the nature of that religion 
which has Christ for its author ? Would he be at 
all surprised with its novelty, or bear away any 
impressions of its spirituality and purity ? 

In arguing thus, I am far from imputing idol 
worship to the multitude ; but where the distinc- 
tions are so slight between worship and relative 
worship, it may safely be inferred that the practice 
is dangerous. If an untutored stranger, unac- 
quainted with these rites, would recognise in them, 
apparently at least, a similarity to a certain extent 
with his own, — if sensible images are exposed to 
reverential gaze in both cases, — the tendency is of 
such a nature as to compromise the spirit of Chris- 
tianity. The latter religion cannot hold any rite 
or doctrine in common with the former system. 
It is impossible they can kneel in the same temple. 

& 5 



ISO 



ORIGIN OF 



They reciprocally forfeit each other's character, 
when one enters the confines of the other. Here 
is a true antagonism; and what is evidently false 
in heathenism cannot lose its character by being 
transplanted into an atmosphere of truth. 

Perhaps the only rational account of the origin 
of the procession is to be looked for in national 
habits. Growing from age to age, they become 
part of a people's nature, and are less easily eradi- 
cated than diverted into a new channel. This 
has been the case here. Through those very 
streets where the Virgin and the saints are borne 
upon seasons of festival, in the palmy days of old 
Rome upon the ^^fasti^^ or at stated intervals, 
Bacchus, Jupiter, and Venus, or their household 
gods, were carried in solemn procession, attended 
by priests and followed by thousands of the people. 
Middleton mentions a pagan procession from Apu- 
leius, which is not unlike a description of the 
present one.^ 

" Mutato nomine de te fabula narratur." 

* " Antistites sacrorum candide linteamine — ad usque vestigia 
strictim injecti. Deum proferebant insignes exuvias, quorum pri- 
mus lucemam praemicantem claro porrigebat lumine, &c. Eas amoenus 
lectissimae juventutis, veste nivea prsenitens sequebatur chorus, car- 
men venustum iterantcs. Magnus praeterea sexus utriusque numerus, 
lucernis, tsedis, cereis." — Apuleius, quoted in Matthews' " Diary." 



THE PROCESSION- 



131 



He speaks of their bearing forward the god, and 
tells us that a large number of persons of either 
sex followed with lamps and torches of wax, that 
they were distinguished by white garments, and 
that a graceful hymn was sung. 

The modern custom of averting plague or dis- 
aster, by carrying the body of the tutelary saint 
through the city, has its undeniable prototype in 
the gods accustomed to be borne along when dan- 
ger or defeat threatened the old commonwealth. 
The procession of the host is of common occur- 
rence, and is a much more unpretending ceremony. 
When a person is dangerously ill the priest is sent 
for, who carries, with much state, the consecrated 
host to the house of the sick. A procession is 
formed, headed by one or more priests and several 
of the attendants of the Church, all clad in their 
officiating dresses. A few pious individuals gene- 
rally join the solemn train. One of their number 
goes a short distance before with a bell, which he 
rings occasionally to announce the approach of the 
host. All within sound of this fall upon their 
knees, and remain uncovered until the priest and 
his attendants have passed on. This is a natural 
result of the belief in transubstantiation. Consi- 
dering that the priest holds in his hands the real 



132 PROCESSION OF THE HOST. 



presence, an act of homage and adoration is only 
what is natural, and to be expected. 

But to this custom not unjustly may be attri- 
buted the careless and unrepentant lives of the 
Italians, The best of their days — the morning of 
life — is dedicated to pleasure; and while they follow 
the shadow, they renounce the substance of reli- 
gion. A few words of contrition, and the receiving 
this sacrament, joined to the absolution of the 
priest, is reckoned as a passport to paradise. So 
clear is this that many, perhaps the majority, lead 
the life of a Nero, and look forward to have the 
black catalogue of years wiped away, like a Con- 
stantine, by an imposing, but momentary, rite. 



PAINTINGS. 



138 



CHAPTER VIII. 

PAINTINGS. — SUBJECTS CHIEFLY SACRED. — ST. ANTHONY PREACHING 
TO THE FISHES. — PICTURE OP ST. DENIS. — THE SISTINE CHAPEL. 
THE LAST JUDGMENT. THE MISERERE. 

The paintings in the Roman galleries have been 
often described. These collections abound with 
pieces of the most surpassing beauty, presenting 
nature under its various forms, such as it was 
never represented in any other country. The eye 
enjoys the exquisite feast; and in after years, when 
we are at home in our northern clime, the memory 
loves to recal and dwell upon the pleasure. 

The arts are the last anchor of Italy. She has 
been shattered by the tempests of time, but the 
wreck that she has been left has been caused by 
the impotence, as well as the superstition, of her 
sons. Her muscular arm has become nerveless, 
and her masculine spirit has passed away under the 
domination of the Church. But bad government 
and wretched institutions could not divest the 



134 SUBJECTS CHIEFLY BELIGIOUS. 

Roman character of its excellence. Although the 
old road to fame was denied them, they are still 
first in that department to which the circumstances 
that surround them have inclined the bent of their 
genius. The only laurels that were left them they 
suffer no brows to wear but their own. 

It is a pity that the painters have left us, with 
very few exceptions, religious subjects, and did not 
embody upon the canvas some of the glorious deeds 
of their great ancestors. Apocryphal subjects are 
to be found without number, but acts written upon 
their history's page have remained untouched under 
the custody of a Livy or a Csesar. Monks in their 
sable costume, and saints undergoing the pains of 
martyrdom, are the usual products of their pencil. 
But they have not given us the eloquent head 
of Cicero, the dignified Cato, or the heroic con- 
queror of Carthage. To be sure the fault lies with 
the monastery and the priest. Such pieces as 
these would no doubt have been deemed heretical, 
and no excellence of finish or design could have 
rescued them from ecclesiastical censure. The 
painters painted for the taste of the times. The 
abbot or the prelate suggested the subject, and left 
the artist to imagine a St. Anthony or a St. Lau- 
rence. The Flemish school, not having been re- 



SUBJECTS CHIEFLY RELIGIOUS. 185 

strained by these rules, have left us many historical 
pictures, which prove their own taste, and have 
paved their renown. The Scripture history of 
course furnishes magnificent subjects. These, in 
many instances, have supplied noble examples, 
which are found in some oils and frescoes ; but the 
saint was more in favour both with priest and 
people.^ 

The churches contained originally the best paint- 
ings. The "Transfiguration," now in the Vatican, 
was an altar-piece. They have been, by degrees, 
purchased for private collections, or are to be found 
in either of the national museums, while their places 
were supplied by some less valuable pictures. 

Paintings of the Virgin are the most numerous, 
and the crucifixion of^course also occupies a pro- 
minent place. But it is extraordinary that the 
painter should adorn the sanctuary with some sub- 
jects, which, one would think, are not calculated to 

* The favour in which such pieces are held still prevails. I 
suggested to a clever artist to occupj^ himself with painting some 
stirring scene from Roman history, drawing his attention to some re- 
markable events of the times of the consuls and the Csssars. He 
disregarded my representations, and mentioned a subject which had 
occurred to him, about which he was in raptures. This was St. 
Laurence at his martyrdom. What a fine subject, he remarked, for 
painting ! — what scope for imagination ! Now St. Laurence was 
roasted. He obviously alluded to his gestures upon the gridiron ! 



136 



ST. ANTHONY 



kindle devotion. I saw in a church near the Corso, 
called the Chiesa del Gesu, belonging to the Jesuits, 
an exceedingly well-executed painting of St. An- 
thony preaching to the fishes. I am sure it was for 
the moral the piece suggested that it obtained a 
place upon the sacred walls ; not that the painter 
or the priest imagined that St. Anthony actually 
enlarged upon a text of Scripture, and spoke an 
impassioned appeal to the inhabitants of the briny 
deep. He had long spoken to men in vain ; he 
took this course to shame them into Christians. 
Be it as it may, St. Anthony stands upon the shore, 
while the sea breaks gently at his feet, each 
wave bringing a new shoal to his scaly congrega- 
tion. His hands are stretched forth, and he has 
all the marks of a genuine atod sincere advocate. 

When Alexander arrived at the sea, he wept that 
the boundaries of conquest had so soon arrived ; 
not so St. Anthony ; more ambitious, he launches 
his weapons of persuasion against the hordes of 
the world of waters, prisoning them by his argu- 
ments, and thus left the hero of antiquity in the 
shade. 

Among the fish you can observe several sorts and 
species. The cod approaches with a beard like 
another capuchin, and plashes its neighbour to ob- 



PREACHING TO THE FISHES. 187 



tain a nearer view of the holy man. The gurnet 
elevates its hard head, with its eyes fixed full upon 
the saint's visage ; its character is easily known 
from the genuine brownish red which proclaims its 
identity. The salmon, with its silver scales, skims 
along the surface, and by the splutter that it makes 
seems to have had a sort of pharisaical devotion — 
a theatrical display to catch the eye of the preacher. 
Flat fish there are none. Probably turbot or sole 
would have discomposed St. Anthony ; the specta- 
tors, too, might have supplied this deficiency. The 
larger " sea-beasts," whales, or seals, have pursued 
their usual career in the ocean, but the smaller fry 
are innumerable. 

Or it may be an allegory^ for which we do not 
give the painter and his patron sufficient credit. 
Indeed it must be so, as St. Anthony must have 
know^n that water is a non-conductor of sound, and 
that fishes do not hear. It represents, then, the 
difl^erent classes of hearers — the conduct of the 
converts of his times. 

The cod may be taken as the type of sincerity ; 
its whole look and demeanour bespeak this. The 
gurnet is also the mark of a class. But I think 
the artist or the abbot w^ould have us believe that 
the preacher could have but little effect there also, 



138 



PICTURE OF 



its bony cranium resisting all his words; like many 
who listen to a sermon, and do not suffer the words 
to penetrate within. The salmon, it is obvious, 
indicates coxcombs ; those who dress gaudily, and 
carry their worldly airs into the temples. The 
flat fish, deaf to his calls, manifestly points out 
men whom the cares or the pleasures of the world 
keep out of sight at the bottom. Again, observe 
the skill displayed. There are no eels listening; 
such slippery, tortuous persons hardly ever attend 
a sermon. Whales are absent at their usual avoca- 
tions ; such great sinners then, as now, no doubt, 
gave little heed to ministers. Viewed in this light, 
we may discover in this picture penetration and 
knowledge of human nature rarely equalled. 

Near the Piazza Farnese, and nearly opposite 
the Collegio Inglese, stands a small church, which, 
though its ornaments are plain and unpretending, 
yet possesses some that are not a little singular. 
Over one of the altars hangs a large painting, 
which, by the freshness of the colouring, seems to 
be but of recent date. The subject is curious, and 
is sure to attract the observer, from perhaps more 
valuable pictures in its neighbourhood. It is a 
saint, who wears the dress of a prelate; but, extra- 
ordinary to relate, he has no head, at least upon his 



ST. DENIS. 189 

shoulders. This, it would seem unnecessary piece 
of lumber, he carries in his hand. He steps as 
leisurely, and walks as erect, as if his former eyes 
directed him. But with the head, wrongly it would 
seem, called " the palace of the soul," all anima- 
tion and activity have passed away. The eyes are 
closed, the cheeks pale, the lips set, the hair hang- 
ing languidly and loosely, making the whole ap- 
pearance ghastly enough. It evidently hopes and 
fears no more. Reason, I must conclude, resides 
in the trunk. The head its owner carries in a 
manner very similar to a mother bearing her babe, 
and it is just as likely that the former should drop 
his charge as the latter. From this it would seem 
that the painting represents St. Denis after his 
martyrdom, who, the Romish legend tells us, after 
decapitation, took up his head and walked to a 
considerable distance. At the place where he lay 
down a church was founded to his honour. I 
fruitlessly endeavoured to explain this picture like 
the former, but in vain ; none of my suggestions 
were at all available. We must therefore take the 
picture as it is, a record of a naked fact 

We know that such things are detailed in the 
legends of the Church, but it was more than I 
expected to find some of the most extravagant 



140 



THE SISTINE CHAPEL. 



rescued from the shelter of a learned language, 
and held up as a means to increase the reverence 
of the multitude. The nineteenth century with 
all its light finds such things renovated and re- 
stored ; and the mixture of truth and error, fidelity 
and falsehood, to be found within the walls of the 
Eternal City, is, perhaps, the only institution which 
preserved its darkness and deformity through 
enlightened times, without receiving any of its 
salutary influences. 

Although a party-wall only divides the palace of 
the Vatican from St. Peter's, and the Pope might 
without inconvenience avail himself of it for his 
devotions, we find under the roof of the former 
the private chapel of the Popes. This building 
is but of small extent, not being larger than one 
of our ordinary churches, and, what is extra- 
ordinary, scarcely more adorned. It is hard to 
think that the same mind that planned and finished 
St. Peter's directed also all the details of this 
simple edifice. Yet the fact is so. Michael 
Angelo was the presiding genius in this as well as 
the more gorgeous temple. But, although orna- 
ment is absolutely away, no marble pillars or 
massive monuments, nothing great in architecture 
or novel in design, yet in another way he has en- 



THE SISTINE CHAPEL, 



141 



riched it, and made it justly celebrated, namely, 
by the magnificent frescoes he has painted upon 
the walls. 

The figure of the church is a parallelogram. It 
is entered by a fine lobby at the head of the Scalae 
Sanctse, the walls of which have some well-finished 
paintings, mostly representing the defeats which 
the Crescent sustained from the Cross. The 
greater part of the church, about two-thirds, is for 
the accommodation of the cardinals, plain benches 
covered with red baize extending around the walls; 
the remaining part is left for the public. During 
the Holy Week, when this church is particularly 
interesting, this space is crowded, and it requires 
punctuality to obtain admittance. It is not ca- 
pable of containing more than three hundred. One 
half is assigned to the fair sex, while gentlemen 
group as they may in the latter. 

There is no ornament whatever; the walls are 
perfectly bare; but Michael Angelo's pencil has 
inscribed upon them objects of greater interest and 
value. Upon the lower part of the church, occu- 
pying the entire wall, is painted in fresco the cele- 
brated " Last Judgment." Upon both side walls 
tapestry and drapery are represented ; and upon 
the tier above, the worthies of the Old Testament 



142 



THE " LAST JUDGMENT." 



and the prophets are delineated by the same master- 
hand. 

My impression of the " Last Judgment" is that 
it richly deserved the praises which were lavishly 
bestowed upon it, but damp and time have made 
their inroads, and, added to these, want of care has 
told on this perishable mode of painting. The 
colours have become faded, and almost every figure 
in the original has lost considerably its freshness 
and effect. It is a "wreck," and seems to be 
no longer valued by the Pontiff, for an altar 
with a canopy has been erected against one part 
of it. 

Every one, the travelled and the untravelled, is 
acquainted with the " Last Judgment," so that it is 
not necessary to say much concerning it. It repre- 
sents our Saviour in the act of pronouncing judg- 
ment upon men, being risen from the dead — to 
those on his left, perdition ; to those on his right, 
paradise. The figure of the Saviour is noble, full 
of dignity and power, but has none of the sweet- 
ness and benignity that Corregio and Carlo Dolci 
have given it. The figures and features of the 
condemned are strongly expressive of dismay and 
despair, while some of the other persons are calm 
and indicate no fear. There are demons intro- 



THE " MISERERE.'' 



143 



duced, waiting to do their office. And the blue 
unearthly look of the element in which all the 
bodies * are enveloped, fading into darkness pal- 
pable, as they rise from, or sink into the abyss, 
conveys to the mind a just notion of what the 
painter had in view. Such a subject no one could, 
or would, attempt except a Michael Angelo. 

At the right, and slightly elevated, there is a 
small gallery for the Pope's choir. The number 
of musicians that form it are few, but recherche 
in their art, the very best voices that Italy can 
afford. 

Upon three days during ''the santa settemancL^ 
the Miserere is sung here, and all the forestieri 
repair to hear it. As but a limited number can 
attend, it is laughable to see the earnestness dis- 
played to secure a place. Long before the ap- 
pointed hour, three o'clock of French time, crowds 

* The figures, as originally painted by Michael Angelo, were 
naked. This gave grave offence to one of the cardinals, who used 
his influence with the Pope to have them clothed, which was 
eventually done, although against the remonstrances of the great 
painter. The latter had his revenge. He took an accurate likeness 
of the cardinal, and placed him in the piece amongst the damned. 
The cardinal complained, but the Pontiff, a man of taste, assured 
him that he would serve him if he could, but that his power did not 
extend so far. 



144 



THE " MISERERE." 



of the elite of England and France stand with all 
imaginable patience on the Scalse Sanctae, while a 
file of the Papal grenadiers prevent for the time 
further ingress. 

Beautiful women and fashionable men, it may 
be countesses and earls, stand side by side with 
priests and commoners, in one crowd with artists 
and invalids. 

At length, the cardinals being seated, the doors 
are opened, and all rush forward in a general melee. 
Distinctions are lost and politeness postponed, 
the gentle sex shewing a vigour and spirit for which 
they commonly do not receive credit. Sometimes 
the Swiss guard is overset, and for some moments 
there is no little confusion. The ladies sit on the 
benches on the right, shrouding as usual their 
loveliness in veils, exhibiting nothing to the car- 
dinals, but, perhaps, that most formidable feature, 
the eyes. The ambassadors' " boxes,'' shall I call 
them, are always well filled, whose uniforms and 
orders engage attention, and thus serve to occupy 
the time until the service begins. 

The windows are closed and the church lighted 
with candles. Within the chancel is placed a sort 
of chandelier, with but two sides. It is of a 
pyramidal shape, on either side of which are placed 



THE MISERERE. 



145 



seven candles. This we shall find a significant 
instrument as we go along. 

The Supreme Pontiff* enters and is led to an 
elevated chair. He looked older and more infirm 
than usual; but the dim light, or the distance, 
made his cheek appear paler, as it threw its 
shadows strongly on the furrows of time. His 
spirits, however, appeared as usual, and his eye 
vivid as before. 

Though the service is called " The Miserere^'' the 
fifty-first Psalm, commencing with the deeply 
solemn words, " Miserere me^ Dominus Deus^' is 
but a very small part of it. It occupies quite two 
hours : no priest or prelate took part, it was alto- 
gether chanted by the members of the choir. The 
words were throughout Latin, and embraced the 
prayers for the occasion, the Epistle and Gos- 
pel, together with the Psalms. 

The singing was indeed magnificent. Some- 
times all the voices were blended in unison, con- 
veying to the ear a volume of sweet sounds, so 
beautiful, that, were I the best Catholic in the 
world, my admiration would have paralysed my 
devotion. Sometimes the deep bass of the singers 
came with thrilling effect ; and at others, the clear 

* Gregory XVI. 

H 



146 



THE MISERERE. 



and glassy tones of a single individual broke upon 
the stillness of the scene, like a spirit communing 
with our souls, conveying a message of mercy, or 
calling us to Heaven. 

The deeply melancholy and self-abasing words 
of the Miserere, pleading for the sinner, and only 
claiming the heavenly attribute of mercy, were 
given with that taste and judgment which we might 
expect to find in the Pope's choir, and with a 
feeling that appealed to every heart, and accorded 
well with the present occasion, the day upon which 
the Saviour sufifered — Good Friday. It was for 
this event that the whole service was sung. It 
was made, as it were, a service of sorrow, de- 
ploring the great event that had happened, and 
craving forgiveness for its cause — sin. 

The whole ceremony is simple and touching. 
Throughout all is silent save the voices of the 
singers, which occasionally send forth their stream 
of harmony — like music heard in the night. At 
various but regular intervals during the service, a 
candle at either side of the chandelier was extin- 
guished, till at last all were put out, leaving the 
place in stillness and obscurity. This is meant 
to represent the darkness at our Saviour's death. 
Just at this moment the choir unite all their 



THE MISERERE. 



147 



efforts, and the Miserere itself is sung. There 
was a solemnity, if not sublimity in the effect, not 
easily banished from the mind. No instrument 
of music broke upon the ear, but it was the human 
voice only, with tones of softer harmony and deeper 
melody, alternately pleading or lamenting. But 
finished and imposing in a high degree as was 
the whole service, we were listening throughout 
to an opera. Every one came, not for devotion, 
but to hear and admire. Effect was the great 
object aimed at. It had even the characters of 
the drama ; the darkness with which the close was 
invested was theatrical and tragic. But, notwith- 
standing, it is the most excusable of the ceremonies 
of the Holy Week, and which leaves a more fa- 
vourable impression than perhaps any other of the 
Roman ritual. 

The Miserere is sung upon three different days * 
of the Holy Week, of which the service on the 
last two is reckoned the best. The late Pope did 
not often attend, as the long sitting was too much 
for his increasing years and infirmities ; but the 
entire body of the cardinals are usually present, 
together with their chaplains. In this chapel, at 
least on this occasion, there was none of that salu- 

* On Giovedi, Venerdi, and Sahhato. 

H 2 



148 



THE MISERERE. 



tation which we found to occupy so much time 
in St. Peter's. Their eminences at once turned 
to their books, and gave every attention to the 
service. Lambruschini was near me, and he 
seemed sincere and devout. At its conclusion the 
capellane twisted the trains of the cardinals with 
great rapidity. All quickly departed, and the 
Sistine Chapel and Michael Angelo's frescoes were 
wrapped in obscurity and silence. 



CEREMONIES OF HOLY WEEK. 149 



CHAPTER IX. 

ADORAZIONE BELLA VERA CROCE. — THE SPEAR. THE NAILS.— 

THE CRUCIFIXION. — THE SUDARIO. — STATE OF RELIGION AT 
ROME.-— HER PROSPECTS. — ADORATION OP RELICS. — RELICS, IN- 
DIAN AND EGYPTIAN. — ABSURDITY OF THE PRACTICE. 

After the lapse of about half an hour, another 
ceremony, and of a more questionable character, 
takes place in St. Peter's. I had only heard of it 
in the morning, but I was resolved that I would 
see, if possible, the worshiping of the True Cross. 
Upon entering St. Peter's I observed two rows of 
small reading-desks, opposite which were cushions 
placed upon the ground: more advanced, and in 
front of the great altar, stood one by itself, as I 
saw afterwards, for the Pope himself But few 
persons had assembled. I observed a few priests 
and several Italians, but the greater part of the 
English had gone to their homes. 

It is said that the Church authorities would 
just as soon that this rite should not be witnessed 



150 



ADORATION OF THE 



by heretical strangers, although there is no prohibi- 
tion whatever. Indeed, the observance is so foreign 
from Christian worship that I do not wonder at it; 
for it affords a weapon which may with such ease 
be wielded against them, that they do well to prac- 
tise it at the approach of night. 

It suits well, however, with matters as they are 
at Rome, and amongst professing Catholics it is 
a rite the very highest of its order. To have wor- 
shiped the True Cross but once is reckoned as a 
great privilege ; and to obtain a sight of the other 
sacred relics that are at the same time exhibited 
is considered to have the happiest eflfect upon the 
individual. 

After some delay, the door that leads to the 
church from the Pope's apartments opened, and a 
Papal procession made its appearance; sed quan- 
tum mutatus ah illo!'^ — shorn of all the splendour 
which is associated with it on these occasions. The 
mitres were all laid aside, in place of which they 
bore their usual small caps ; and the glowing 
scarlet robe was exchanged for one of a pale pur- 
ple dye, which is the mourning of the Pope and 
cardinals. The Supreme Pontiff led the way, fol- 
lowed by two rows of cardinals and their chap- 
lains. With downcast eyes, and in solemn silence, 



TRUE CROSS. 



151 



they walked up the great aisle, and took their 
places at the desks, all falling upon their knees. 
Upon each desk was a paper containing several 
prayers, suited, of course, to the occasion. It 
would be curious to see in what manner the 
relics are addressed, but to those "that are 
without" they are of course sealed books. 

As soon as the Pope had rested himself, a lofty 
gallery, or rather balcony, to the left of the altar, 
and under the dome, was entered by two priests, 
arrayed in the richest vestments, a strong light 
also being concentrated upon the place. This 
leads from the apartment where these precious 
relics are deposited, and to these priests is assigned 
their care. 

The priest who first appeared exposed the wood 
of the True Cross, — " lignea di Vera Croce^'^ — for 
veneration. The distance was very considerable, 
and it was impossible to form an accurate idea of it, 
and it was also enclosed in a case. There is not 
much of the wood, — that would be impossible, as 
nearly every country lays claim to a considerable 
share. The Romanist asserts that there can be no 
doubt as to its identity ; that the Empress Helena 
herself brought it to Rome, and that it has con- 
tinued in the custody of the Popes ever since. 



152 



THE SPEAR. 



It was wonderful to observe the veneration that 
was paid it. The head and the princes of the Church 
could not, apparently, have been penetrated with 
a deeper awe had they bent before the Saviour 
Himself. They fell down and knelt to the wood. 
Whether any other object, higher and holier, was 
in their thoughts at the time, I cannot take upon 
me to determine ; but unquestionably at this con- 
clusion we must arrive with regard to the crowd 
of uneducated persons that thronged the aisle. 

After a few minutes the priest again appeared, 
and the relic that he exhibited for adoration was 
the spear with which our Saviour's side was pierced 
at his crucifixion. It could have been the head 
only, as the object was small. Strange, if after so 
many centuries time has spared aught of this 
memorable weapon ! Stranger still, when He suf- 
fered death at the hands of his enemies, and his 
friends " all forsook Him and fled," that the Church 
should have been able to possess itself of this 
actual spear! The thing is impossible. But of 
course there are legends enough to account for it, 
detailing its preservation or presentation' to the 
Bishop of Rome, which are never questioned or 
examined by any member of the Church. 

After due time the spear disappeared, and the 



THE NAILS. 



153 



guardian of the relics exposed another precious 
charge. These were some of the nails which sus- 
pended our Saviour to the Cross ! It was impossible 
not to feel some degree of awe even, in the pre- 
sence of these supposititious relics. Anything con- 
nected with the name and history of that Almighty 
Being who consented to die for our sakes natu- 
rally impresses the imagination, which the time and 
place were calculated to heighten. But this feeling 
soon gives way to a feeling of sober and solid pity 
for men, who so far frustrate the design of the 
religion He brought into the world, as to convert 
its chief article into a nullity, and raise the atoms 
of perishable matter to almost an equality in 
worship and honour with Him who is the chief 
corner-stone. 

Were these the very nails that had their part in 
the crucifixion ? Did the Roman soldiers, who, at 
best, thought Christianity but a pernicious super- 
stition," instead of casting them aside, carefully 
preserve them ? And are they so long exempted 
from rust and decay ? For what purpose ? Can 
they see or hear, appreciate' the honour bestowed 
upon them, or aught avail the worshiper ? Were 
these the actual instruments of death, and 
only kept as evidences of the guilt and enor- 

h5 



154 



THE SUDARIO. 



mity of man, it were another matter. But when 
the head of the Catholic Church and the assembled 
prelates did them worship and homage, the heart 
sighs to find that truth meets such mighty obstacles 
in its progress. We blame the Cingalese for 
worshiping the tooth of Buddah; we say that they 
are buried in ignorance, and unhesitatingly call 
it idolatry. Are the distinctions very great here ? 
The Romanist should look carefully, lest what 
will excuse the former will not justify the latter. 

The last object brought in from the depository 
of the relics was the Sudario, or towel with which 
our Saviour wiped his face at his Passion. This 
is in a precious case, and enclosed in glass. Upon 
the Sudario remains the impression of the Saviour's 
features. The traces of a face are distinctly visible. 
What a delusion ! and how carefully kept up ! 
Unless the matter be explained by a special 
miracle — a miracle for no purpose — the thing is 
frivolous and absurd. Would the delicate texture 
of the Sudario receive the impression, or exist for 
the thousandth part of the time? It is hardly 
possible to think that the Pope can be sincere. No 
doubt this very relic is renewed, and fashioned in 
the figure it bears. It must be so, and can it be 
done without his knowledge ? Perhaps it may ba 



RELICS. 



155 



otherwise explained. Every one must rejoice to 
hear that there is no alliance with deception. 

It is very possible that relics, these among the 
rest, will be the rock that the Church of Rome will 
spUt upon. The vaunted infallibility will for awhile 
direct it, as it has done, amidst the dangers ; but 
before increased knowledge, and in more enlight- 
ened times, examination will spring up, reason un- 
lock its rivets, and deception vanish before truth. 

The true plan to bring about these great ends 
would be to allow the perusal of the Scriptures. 
To this the Church of Rome will never assent ; self- 
preservation is the first law of nature. In them it 
would be suicidal. At the present moment it is 
almost impossible to bring a copy of the Bible into 
Italy. At all the custom-houses the books of the 
traveller are examined ; and at the frontier dogana^ 
if the prohibited book is found, it will be retained 
for him until his return. 

The Bible is forbidden to be read, and every 
other work capable of giving right notions upon 
rehgious truth has a prominent place in the Index 
Expurgatorius^'^ which is revised yearly by a congre- 
gation presided over by a cardinal. Improvement 
will only begin when the people shall assert their 
undoubted right to read and judge for themselves. 



156 



STATE OF 



Reformation will, in truth, commence when they 
cease to see with other eyes, hear with other ears 
than their own; when they stand forth in the 
proud position they were designed to occupy, as 
reasoning creatures, by their Maker ; and not, as 
they now do, allow one mind to think, act, and 
decide for them. 

It is very possible these events may take place. 
The age is ripe for this already, and the States of 
the Church have frequently given indications that 
they are dissatisfied with Pontifical Government. 
Their present wise and enlightened ruler may in- 
deed obviate much of this feeling. They have had, 
no doubt, much to complain of. Trial by jury is 
not to be found at Rome, and but little of personal 
right. The Church is independent of the laws. 
Altogether the system is ready for change. Pro- 
bably the end of this century may find the Pope 
occupying his original position as bishop of the 
district of Rome, and its worship purified by a 
movement arising within its own bosom. 

The adoration of the wood of the Cross by the 
Pope proves what are the sentiments of the Church 
of Rome in this matter, and the doctrines upon this 
subject that it would inculcate. Plain it is, that 
these sentiments have sufffered no change. The same 



RELIGION AT ROME. 



157 



creature-worship, — the same respect to inanimate 
beings, — which characterised the dark ages, subsist 
in those of greater light, when knowledge has ad- 
vanced with rapid footsteps, and science unravelled 
many intricacies in things hitherto unknown. Rome 
exhibits a curious spectacle : while the world has 
advanced in the perception and the practice of 
truth, she alone has retrograded. She stands like 
a vessel moored on a leeward coast, having directed 
her course by obsolete methods or by the stars, 
while the pilot that grasps the helm looks upon 
the compass that would guide her aright as an here- 
tical discovery — as some instance of the black art. 
But the clouds will burst upon her, and the storm 
beset her path upon the ocean, when her strength 
may probably be tried, and the cables found unable 
to resist. 

In fact, Rome as a nation exists more by the 
sufferance of the European potentates than by any 
power of her own. How long she may keep the 
equilibrium in the balance of power, — though it be 
a doubt now whether she could much influence the 
scale, — it is hard to say; and we have had in- 
stances to prove that a Protestant nation is not 
requisite to give her the coup de grace. It seems, at 
all events, to be clear that she takes no good way 



158 ADORATION OF RELICS 



to prolong her existence, as a politico-religious 
power, by maintaining practices equally opposed to 
reason and foreign to truth. Such an unwise course 
has not unfrequently been the prelude to the 
destruction or the decay of empires. 

" Quern Deus vult perdere prius dementat." 

In the face of these things it is a lamentable fact 
that Christians, and clergymen, have been false to 
their first love, and allured by the attractions of 
Rome. In accepting the system that they main- 
tain, they must accept it all ; and how can men of 
studious or inquiring minds reconcile to themselves 
the adoration of relics? The pure and undivided 
worship of God once influenced them. If they are 
good Catholics, they must share it now with his 
creatures. What are its foundations in natural 
religion? None; except what fear without reflec- 
tion may suggest What are its proofs from re- 
vealed ? Absolute and implied prohibitions. Moses, 
going upon Mount Nebo, and dying there, by the 
express command of God, the children of Israel 
being ignorant of his sepulchre, seems to have 
taken place for the very purpose lest they should 
consider his remains sacred, and attach a religious 
value to them. Joseph, if he deemed relics worth 



UNSUPPORTED BY SCRIPTURE. 159 



a thought, would have bequeathed his own to his 
race ; but he gave commands only concerning "his 
bones" and burial. When Elisha held a piece 
of Elijah's mantle as he mounted to heaven, it 
would have been a desirable relic ; but it is never 
afterwards mentioned. The contents of the ark— 
the manna, &c. — were deposited, not for worship, 
but to crush infidelity, and as incontestible evi- 
dences of the goodness of God to them. 

If a thought were to be bestowed on relics, if 
their worship were to form a stone in the arch of 
the Church which the Apostles founded, instances 
or precepts upon the subject must be found in the 
writings which they have left us, and their own con- 
duct would of course be influenced by such a feeling. 
But at John the Baptist's death, whose eulogium 
our Saviour Himself pronounces, did they, who 
must have valued it more than all others, divide 
his body among themselves, as a treasure for the 
future church ? The inspired account does not, I 
think, favour such a supposition: "and his dis- 
ciples came and buried it." When St. Stephen 
was slain, who spake with such ardour and inspira- 
tion, that " his face shone as an angel," was there 
anxiety displayed by his followers to have a limb, 
or an ear, or a nail — some of his blood, or some 



160 



RELICS, 



of his garments? Did the spirit which actuates 
the Romanist actuate them? The EvangeUst tells 
us that nothing of the sort occurred, but that they 
took him forth, lamented, and buried him. 

At the death of the Saviour, when his disciples 
imagined that it had destroyed their hopes, when 
Joseph of Arimathaea came and begged of Pilate 
his body, what was his purpose ? Was it that of 
the Church of Rome— to preserve it as a relic? 
Hear again the unerring monitor: "He took it, 
and buried it in his own new tomb, hewn out of a 
rock." Thus clear it is that such a worship never 
entered the thoughts of the primitive Church, or 
occupies a line of the apostolical writings. The 
practice arose only when the source of truth 
became polluted, and in obedience to the maxim, 
since widely acted on, that man can faciUtate or 
improve the method of salvation pointed out by its 
Divine Author. 

It arose, also, from a spirit of rivalry. The 
pagan systems had their images and relics, and 
why, in the opinion of its patrons, should not the 
Church of Rome have theirs? Such an opinion 
prevails in most religions, except in that whose 
origin is from above. The Mussulmans have their 
stone of the Caaba and the tomb of the Prophet, 



INDIAN AND EGYPTIAN. 161 



which receive the veneration of thousands of his 
followers. The Buddhists have the tooth of their 
founder. There are relics in the Brahminical 
temples ; and recently, in Pompeii, several mum- 
mies were found in the temple dedicated to the 
Egyptian worship, which we may calculate to have 
been the pontiffs of their service, who, no doubt, 
had their votaries in abundance. The Indian 
tribes of America have their amulets, which 
are of the nature of relics. The imposing sys- 
tem that existed in Egypt of old was chiefly 
a relic-worship; witness the host of ibis, scara- 
bsei, and other sacred animals which have been 
found. They are all alike the marks of a false 
worship. The Supreme Being, who is the object 
of adoration, is of a spiritual nature, and those 
"helps of devotion/' or w^hatever else they may 
be called, only serve to make men more unlike 
Him, and to degrade the impression that He leaves 
upon every breast. 

In the case of the Roman relics, how puerile to 
think that they can benefit those who venerate 
them ! When life is at an end, and Death seizes 
on the body like a remorseless creditor, surely he 
receives it deprived alike of volition and power. 
His handmaids —corruption and the worm— are the 



162 ABSURDITY OF THE PRACTICE. 

only emblems of authority there. The senses are 
mute, the voice is still, the heart is cold. How do 
the relics of St. Francis or St. Paul at all differ 
from any of the fleshless occupants of the neigh- 
bouring cemeteries? Can either hear or heed? 
Do we require to be told that Death's cold ear is 
as inaccessible to prayer as he is himself to pity ? 
Then why keep and reverence them? Because 
" all passes from the type to the prototype," per- 
haps. But would such a worship to the bodies 
they relinquished on earth be acceptable to St. 
Paul or St. Francis? If they are influenced by 
the same feeling as the angel in the Revelations, 
which of course they are, in the possession of 
bliss they would reject such approaches, and with 
a similar answer. They would be rebels in the 
courts of Heaven, if they could suffer it for a 
minute. And yet this is the principle from which it 
flows. They conceive that by paying attention to 
the bodies of these holy men, they will be pleased 
and intercede for them above ; whereas sensations 
the very opposite must take place, as, the purer 
and more spiritualised the mind, the more jealous 
and disposed it is for the worship and service of 
the one and only God. 



RELICS. 



163 



CHAPTER X. 

RELICS : OBSERVATIONS ON THEM CONTINUED. — ST. APOLLONIA.— ■ 

ST. STANISLAUS. PORTABLE RELIC. — SCAL^E SANCTiE : REMARKS 

CONCERNING. ST. RANIERl, PISA. — SANTA CLARA. 

Nearly every church in Rome has its peculiar 
relics. They are the holy things which seem to give 
a character to the edifice ; and are like the spirits 
which were supposed to occupy the temples and 
oracles of old, making every spot of ground sacred, 
and inaccessible to the profane. Like them, too, 
they are hid from view, lest they should lose in 
public estimation by being too common, as we 
conceive higher opinions of a face that is veiled 
than of one uncovered and founded upon that 
universal sentiment, well known in every age, that 
objects of a sacred or mysterious character have 
the notions that are entertained concerning them 
cherished and increased by being seldom seen. 

Every church is dedicated to some saint, who is 
its patron, or, as the Italians write in each " sacred 



164 



OBSERVATIONS ON 



invitation " on the festival day, " nostra protettore f 
but the relic is the saint present in the body, the 
virtue of which alike preserves the building and 
protects the congregation. If they were exposed 
as mere emblems of mortality, perhaps the prac- 
tice would be excusable ; preaching the sermon to 
thoughtless minds of life's uncertainty, and point- 
ing out death by its sad and undeniable records ; 
warning men, while they glide on the stream of 
pleasure, that time has its limits; or, like the slave 
in the victor's chariot of old, amid the spring of 
life, sternly pointing out its winter and decay. 

But a feeling the very reverse of this has 
placed them on every altar at Rome. A virtue, 
as it were, animates them, and if it does not give 
life and motion to the shrivelled skeleton, it at 
least invests it with the attribute of power. Their 
efficacy is great in healing, or in exerting various 
other influences. Formerly miracles were worked 
by relics, and the practice, though not so common 
at the present day, is by no means given up. At 
Leghorn, within the last three years, during the 
prevalence of continued dry weather, the entire 
body of a saint was carried in procession, in hopes 
that he would afford them plentiful showers. At 
Milan, during the plague, St. Carlo Borromeo was 



RELICS. 



165 



also borne with great solemnity, with the hope 
that he would be of use to them in abating the 
pestilence.^ 

In the eyes of priests and people they are 
equally valuable. It is said that in their troubles 
or trials the latter will bend before the relic for 
hours in silent meditation, waiting for the answer 
to their wish, like the mother who demands of the 
ocean her drowned child. I have myself seen 
them rise from their knees after prolonged prayer, 
and approaching reverently impress a kiss upon 
the sarcophagus where the body is laid, deeming it 
half profanation to touch it, and looking when it 
was done as if they had achieved a triumph. 

Where a valuable relic, the body of a saint for 
instance, is exposed on the festa of the Church, 
not unfrequently a priest sits in the immediate 
neighbourhood, lest probably the too great zeal 

* This, however, having taken place in the year 1629, is not a 
very modem instance. " His body, enclosed in a crystal shrine, formed 
the most precious treasure of the cathedral. The shrine was borne 
through the streets, surrounded by the priesthood, the nobles, and the 
magistrates, barefoot and in penitential dresses, and followed by a 
multitude ; and for a moment all minds were abstracted from their own 
and the common danger to gaze upon the mitred skull, visible through 
its transparent covering, whose eyeless sockets and grinning jaws 
might have seemed to mock the hopes so fondly and vainly enter- 
tained." — Lib. EnU Knowledge, Vide Ripamonte. 



166 



OBSERVATIONS ON 



of a votary might prompt him to pilfer ; or lest his 
mode of address might not be consistent with that 
mysterious respect which the mighty dead inspires. 
I have seen this sacred watchman at Pisa, and I 
was at first led to think that an excess of faith 
induced him to keep his ward, lest, when the 
marble where the saint slept had been removed, 
he might make himself wings and flee away. 

On these occasions of exposition how ghastly is 
the spectacle, and, one would think, how little 
likely to inspire devotion ! The skull with its 
eyeless sockets looks grim and horrible, while the 
brows are dark and damp with time. The slender 
arms are extended, sinewy and shrivelled ; while the 
fingers, long and lank, black as those of a mummy 
from the pyramids, are clenching a crozier or a 
cross. The ribs are bare, exhibiting the place 
where the heart beat, like a ruined fountain in the 
wilderness, or the altar of an old temple, desolate 
and dismantled. The fleshless limbs are extended 
and composed, having no traces of energy remain- 
ing; and the whole frame has that aspect of languor, 
as if it sighed for the tomb. It is but a relic 
indeed — the relic of mortality, and the remnant 
of the worms' feast ! We feel, as we gaze on the 
cold and inanimate object, that we are in the 



RELICS. 



167 



charnel-house, and not in the church. How extra- 
ordinary that man can be induced to reverence 
decay — to worship the worm ! Th e beingswho 
have been the objects of adoration in all ages are 
invested with majesty and power; but here is 
nothingness respected, and dust deified. 

These eastern nations who prostrate them- 
selves before the great luminaries, — the sun by 
day, or the stars by night, the one the source of 
light and life, the others twinkling in beauty and 
power, — we can hardly imagine so corrupt and 
culpable as this. It is not improbable that reason 
unaided should prompt them to acknowledge the 
benefits received from these magnificent objects, 
and particularly in these climes where both shine 
with increased splendour. 

For the Greeks or Romans even, some plea 
may be urged, as they bent before the fair pro- 
portions of the human figure, consummately carved 
in marble by the hand of a Phidias or Praxiteles : 
their taste may have been carried to extremes, and 
their admiration end in devotion, but even these 
slender excuses cannot be urged for those who 
on their knees pour forth their petitions, or place 
their dependence upon the remains of the frail 
form saved from the sepulchre or gleaned from the 
grave-yard. 



168 



ST. APOLLONIA. 



Unquestionably they have much to answer for, 
and their guilt is considerable, who can give the 
people a head or an arm, a saint's skeleton or a 
skull, instead of the great truths— simple but sub- 
lime — of the religion the object of which was to 
smooth the path of life and to save them for 
the next. It is cheating the heart in the objects 
that are most dear to it, and is, in the truest 
sense, presenting them with a stone when they ask 
for bread. 

The church of Santa Maria en Trastevere * has 
a goodly collection of relics. Among them is to 
be found the head of St. Apollonia, who is the 
patron-saint of those who suflFer from " il malade 
di denteP There is a fine painting of St. Apollonia 
in the Corsini collection by Carlo Dolci; and a 
sweeter face was never painted by the same master. 
It is a favourite subject with the artists at Rome, 
and many of them find their way into this country. 
1 should much prefer Carlo Dolci's head to that 
which is laid up in the church, although the 
former be valueless in the priests' eyes. The 
features are Roman, beautifully rounded, and full 
of expression ; the forehead fair and high, the 
mouth small, the whole air voluptuous. But the 

* Transtiberim^ beyond the Tiber ; the west quarter of the city. 



ST. STANISLAUS. 



169 



chief feature are the eyes, soft as the evening star, 
with more than its brightness. With all these 
aeeomphshments Apollonia met with the fate of 
martyrdom. I cannot assign the reason why those 
aflSicted with tooth-ache fly to her for succour. 
If the picture is a fair representation of the 
original, she would be more likely to give the 
heart-ache, than cure any other. 

A small church on the Quirinal Hill, or, as it is 
now called, Monte di Cavallo, possesses the body of 
St. Stanislaus, a noble Pole, who sacrificed and 
suffered much for the Church. The body is con- 
tained in a handsome marble sarcophagus, which 
at the same time forms the altar of the church and 
the tomb of the saint. 

In the various churches throughout the city 
bodies and garments are reverently laid up. There 
is scarcely one without its relic treasure. But the 
basilicas of St. Peter's and St. John Lateran's 
stand at the head of all others in this respect. St. 
Peter himself is said to repose in the former, and 
in the latter St. Paul is enclosed in a silver bust. 
If all be true that is aflSrmed concerning relics, the 
saints, I fear, would cease to be bipeds, or must 
have been monsters such as we have no record of 
now. Three or more legs, and as many arms as 

I 



no RELICS, WHENCE SUPPLIED. 

Briareus, are often assigned to one individual; 
and, what is of more moment, there is undoubted 
evidence of their having two heads, one probably 
possessed by a monastery at Rome, the duplicate 
being in Austria or Northern Italy. If the fingers 
or toes be put together, they will be far more than 
nature ever gave to one man ; and the garments of 
a single saint, to which sanctity is assigned, will 
be found to exceed in number and variety the 
wardrobe of the most extravagant gentleman of 
our time. Nothing would be more useful than a 
catalogue of relics in all Catholic countries, if in- 
formation might be afforded to make it ; it would 
soon appear that the " pious fraud " is continued 
still, and is principally at work in relics. 

Rome is the great emporium for relics. This cele- 
brated city gives them their sanctity. There is either 
an office or congregation where the value and virtue 
of such things are assigned, but in most cases they 
come from the Holy Father himself. To Catholic 
princes they were the choicest presents; and prelates 
or priests, visiting the capital of the Church, are 
sure to bring away with them a case containing some 
canonised bones. They are well paid for, and per- 
haps it is the only traffic which is carried on with 
real activity within the walls. So great has always 



A PORTABLE RELIC. 



171 



been the demand, that the catacombs— the great 
cemetery — are said to have been well nigh ex- 
hausted. Once that they come from the genuine 
channel, sealed and certified by infallibility, they 
are never afterwards questioned. At the custom- 
houses opposite the French coast no commodity 
is found with more certainty in the portmanteau of 
the travelled priest, than a limb or an arm of some 
of the martyrs of Italy. It reminds me strongly 
of some quacks, who have made easy fortunes by 
the sale of medicines, advertised to cure all 
diseases, but which in the end turned out to be 
brick-dust, or some equally innocuous material. 

I may mention here an incident that will be 
hardly credited. The relic is sometimes ground 
down (this application of a bone-mill is novel) 
and made into a paste, of which small round cakes 
are formed, bearing the impression of a cross, a 
crosier? the head of an apostle, or the figure of a 
lamb. This is carried about the person, and is 
laid upon the table where he performs his matins 
or vespers. It is, I believe, especially for the 
priests, one of whom shewed a cake of this 
nature to a friend of mine, and explained its 
properties. I myself also subsequently had an 
opportunity of seeing one. 

I 2 



172 



SCALiE SANCT^. 



I shall conclude this account of relics, already 
too prolonged, with a description of one of the 
most curious and interesting to be found at Rome — 
the Scalse Sanctse at the small chapel near St John 
Lateran's. 

The "holy stairs" are, say the Church chro- 
nicles, the very stairs of Pilate's house at Jerusa- 
lem, which our Saviour ascended as he w^ent to 
judgment. They w^ere brought by miraculous 
means to Rome.^ These celebrated stairs have 
been in their present position for centuries, and 
are at the present day objects of as great venera- 
tion as they were in bygone times. They are 
composed of white marble, and consist of many 
steps. The devout Roman Catholic must ascend 
these steps, invested with so holy a character, only 
upon his knees. I have seen numbers in this atti- 
tude, male and female, patiently mounting their 
way to the top. Thus to mount these hallowed 
steps is the highest penitential act, for which 
thousands traverse wide oceans and distant 
kingdoms. 

Lest the number of pilgrims frequenting the 

* It is not quite clear whether they were brought miraculously, 
like the Virgin's house at Loretto, or were brought hither by the less 
ostentatious means of toil and labour. 



SCAL^ SANCT^. 



173 



sacred fane should wear out the steps by the con- 
stant attrition of their knees, they are covered 
with wood, an open space having been left at every 
step, through which the sacred marble can be 
descried. Hard as the stone is, this was no doubt 
absolutely necessary, pressed as they are from age 
to age by so great a number ; but perhaps it had 
looked more venerable if the traces of devotion 
were indelibly stamped upon it. 

I did not think that the penitents, scaling the 
ascent in their painful and uneasy position, afforded 
either a religious or solemn spectacle. Some ple- 
thoric individuals were warm with the exercise, 
and a few modest ladies blushed deeply upon being 
discovered at the task. When the top is gained, 
the penance or service is concluded, as it would 
be a perilous undertaking to descend in the 
same manner. On either side there are common 
stairs of wood, from which the devotee takes his 
departure. 

There is a box at the top, the usual accompam- 
ment on all such occasions, which stands inviting 
whatever offering the person may be disposed to 
pay. At the completion of this exercise the per- 
son rises from his knees, and in most cases pro- 
ceeds to look through the key-hole of a bronze 



174 



SCAL.^ SANCT^. 



door leading into a small-ante-chamber. Cariosity 
induced me to perform this part of the ceremony. 
Great sanctity is evidently attached to the spot. 
Probably it represents a fac-simile of a room 
in Pilate's house, as upon the walls are writ- 
ten in large letters, " Non est in toto mundo locus 
sanctiorr 

No doubt a certain awe would attach to 
those things which had been touched by the 
Saviour of the World ; but it remains to be 
proved that they are meritorious to the individual, 
and, still more, whether they are the identical 
objects that had been pressed by his footsteps. 
That it is a mere imposition, a deception practised 
upon the multitude, no more question can exist 
than that the light shines. 

Jerusalem, in fulfilment of prophecy, under- 
went the hard fate which was written in her stern 
sentence. The Roman eagle hovered over her 
Vv'alls, and the Roman soldier pillaged and profaned 
the altars of her temples and her dom.estic hearths. 
Vespasian and Titus so completely destroyed the 
city, as literally not to leave one stone upon 
another." Houses, baths, and towers were involved 
in one common ruin ; the fortifications were so 
completely overthrown, that the plough was driven 



SCAL^ SANCT^. 



175 



over the site of Jerusalem. It long remained waste 
and uninhabited — unoccupied by the unbeliever or 
the Jew. Amid this heap of confusion, amid the 
broken pillars, where the plan of the city and the 
site of every edifice was lost, — and history tells us 
how unsparing were the Romans in their pillage, 
particularly where revenge and hatred were the 
wild spirits that devastated the scene, — was it with- 
in the bounds of possibility that a particular stone 
or a certain structure could have been distinguish- 
ed from the surrounding ruins, or have been pre- 
served entire ? Such a supposition will not stand 
the test of examination for one minute. It is one 
that is frivolous to entertain ; and the person that 
can believe it, under such circumstances, would 
admit any absurdity, no matter how gross. The 
Scalae Sanctae were probably never twenty miles 
from Rome, excavated from the neighbouring 
quarries, and are the ingenious device of some 
prudent Pope or wily cardinal, who considered the 
finances an object as much deserving their atten- 
tion as the promotion of the faith. 

These relics, that have descended from ancient 
times like heir-looms in the succession of the 
Church, are probably the last things that would 
afford matter for doubt or inquiry to the Romanist 



176 



INQUIRY HOPELESS. 



himself. Their origin is too remote, and the in- 
vestigation attended with too much difficulty, for 
him to engage in it. It is true, also, that those 
things in religion which have antiquity upon their 
side are invested with peculiar sanctity. Like the 
ruins of an old abbey, — defaced, but honoured by 
time, — they are imposing and impressive. They 
are also mixed up with the character of his religion; 
and inquiry is at once checked, as he knows that if 
discoveries were made, it would wound the system, 
which is associated with his habits and thoughts in 
the most vital part. Such a thought never enters 
his mind, because he considers it sinful. For the 
laity, therefore, to examine, and to be convinced, 
is, I think, a forlorn hope. To wait for those who 
profit by the delusion to preach a crusade against 
such things, is more than can be expected from 
human nature. Yet the time may come when in 
this fruitful field a second Luther may reap me- 
morable triumphs, and not inferior to his who has 
a deathless name throughout Christendom. He 
may find it, too, a more vulnerable part than that 
which shrunk beneath the heroic arm of the Ger- 
man monk. 

The veneration of relics is not confined to Rome, 
but is spread over all Italy ; in proof of which I 



ST. ItANIERI. 



177 



shall mention two incidents which came under my 
own notice at Pisa. 

In the beautiful cathedral of that city, which has 
so many objects to arrest the attention, none 
of them is more striking than the sarcophagus 
on the altar to the left of the great doorway, which 
contains the body of St. Ranieri. Long ago he 
had been a bishop of Pisa, and in the time of her 
greatness and glory had administered the affairs of 
her church. He is called in the '^sagra invita^^ 
" Nostra protettore^' being thus the patron saint of 
the city. To him, in times of difficulty, the devout 
Pisan has recourse, and on occasions of danger, as 
well as in the hours of sickness. When he recom- 
mends himself to St. Ranieri he reckons all to be 
secure. The festival of this saint takes place upon, 
I think, the 4th of May. 

The sarcophagus is marble, but the sides are 
glass, so that you have a complete view of the slum- 
bering saint.* The skeleton is entire, and after 
the lapse of so many ages the saint has managed to 
preserve himself very well. Flowers were strewed 
over the bones, and upon the skull, raised upon a 

* It was the festival day on which I visited the cathedral, and an 
exposition of the relics then usually takes place, so that it is probable 
the body is covered up at ordinary times. 

i5 



178 CHURCH OF THE DOMINICANS. 

cushion, was laid a chaplet of the same products of 
nature, the sightless orbs being turned slightly 
towards the multitude. The feet were cased in 
gilt shoes, and his crosier lay beside him. 

It seemed extraordinary to me how such an 
exhibition could excite or command devotion ; but 
it was evident that such was the ease. Several 
women were in the immediate neighbourhood tell- 
ing their beads in solemnity and silence, with eyes 
occasionally turned towards the potent saint — eyes 
which plainly spoke the reliance and the faith they 
reposed in him. They then concluded by impress- 
ing a kiss upon the cold case which contained his 
remains. 

So valuable and holy are these relics esteemed, 
that a priest sits in the immediate neighbourhood, 
to see that no one injures them. It is possible the 
treasury of the church is also benefited by his 
presence. 

You will find many of the Pisans called by the 
name Ranieri, as we perpetuate Bible names, and 
those of the apostles, particularly, are given to the 
members of Christian families. In like manner, 
the Pisans rank the name of their good bishop with 
the older, Luke, Matthew, and Paul. 

At the church of the Dominicans, Via del Car- 



SANTA CLARA. 



179 



mine, on the 8rd of May, is celebrated a festival 
in honour of Santa Clara. As to her history, I 
was not able to learn all the particulars, but she 
had formerly been either a nun of some order, or 
had ended her days by martyrdom. Her body was 
now in possession of the brotherhood. On the day 
in question the body was exposed in the centre 
of the chapel. It was contained in a square box, 
the top and sides of which were of glass, by which 
a complete view of the contents was obtained. 
The skeleton had fallen to pieces by time, and 
both skull and bones were entirely detached ; but 
they were again arranged with care, in a peculiar 
order, according to the taste of the priest. The 
thigh-bones, crossing each other, were tied together 
with white silk ribbons ; the ribs, feet, and arms 
were beneath, and over these relics of mortality was 
placed the skull, in an attitude that presented its 
sightless eyes towards the numerous congregation. 
Upon the skull was placed a wreath of white and 
red roses. It presented a curious union of ruin 
and beauty — the wreck of the human form, and the 
unrivalled sweetness of the flower ! 

What was the reason of the garland ? perhaps to 
represent the freshness of her memory, and the 
fragrance of her name; but to me it told a different 



180 



SANTA CLARA. 



tale. How often have we seen, amid scenes of 
gaiety, a fair forehead and raven hair adorned with 
a similar garland, where the heart beats lightly, 
and is unoppressed with thoughts of frailty or the 
future. A few years have passed away, and she is 
gone to her bed of death. It brought the two 
scenes together, as it were, or the one that was before 
me seemed to mock that which was past. It told 
me strongly and sternly of the fate that awaits us, 
and seemed to mock the objects we love and the 
enjoyments we took delight in. I was hurried 
from contemplating the form in the halls of plea- 
sure to look upon it here, with its garland of roses, 
but upon a brow deprived of all flesh and beauty. 
As if to check my admiration, and to remind me of 
instability, the monitor before me said, " Look upon 
me now." 

Santa Clara remained exposed to the worship 
and reverence of the multitude, and during the day 
numbers knelt at her shrine and paid their annual 
offerings. At six o'clock four priests entered the 
church, and stood at the four corners of the plat- 
form, and as they approached they bent the knee 
and made humble obeisance to Santa Clara. Their 
motives seemed to arise from the notion that they 
were in the presence of a being who could either 



I 

SANTA CLARA. 181 

reward or punish them, and was capable of fully 
appreciating their acts. They then turned their 
faces towards her, and commenced a service in her 
honour, chanting throughout. The organ gave 
forth its thrilUng peals, and the voice of the priest 
joined in unison, invocating the assistance upon 
them and the congregation of the puissant Santa 
Clara. 

It was a melancholy scene. I could have under- 
stood it if it were an office for the dead. But to 
see the dust and ashes before me deified, reverence 
given to it, prayers offered to it, and its " dull cold 
ear" invaded with the soft sounds of music, the 
priest and the worshiper standing around — I 
could not but feel that human nature was de- 
graded, and that the great Being, who pervades all 
things, was dishonoured and deprived of his in- 
ahenable rights. The creature was deified — the 
Creator forgotten. 

When the organ had filled the church with a few 
more of its solemn tones, through whose aisles it 
vibrated with a full effect, the priests took each a 
handle of the platform, and, continuing the chaunt, 
advanced towards the door. They then pro- 
ceeded, bearing Santa Clara through the street 
for a short distance, when they again entered the 



182 



SANTA CLARA. 



door of the convent that was close at hand. The 
priests paused, and the eager multitude were per- 
mitted to take one more glance, the doors closed, 
and Santa Clara was conveyed to her box, or shelf, 
wherever her repose may be, to sleep if she may, 
after this periodical visit to the light, until another 
year ushers in her festival. 



RESPECT TO THE VIRGIN. 



183 



CHAPTER XI. 

RESPECT TO THE VIRGIN. HER ALTARS AND PICTURES. — INSCRIP- 
TIONS. WORSHIP OP THE VIRGIN. MIRACULOUS CONVERSION 

OF A JEW AT THE CHURCH OF ST. ANDREA DEL TRATE. 

BRONZE STATUE OF THE VIRGIN NEAR THE CHURCH OF SANTA 
MARIA MAGGIORE. — IL VOLTO SANTO. 

After a month's residence at Rome, a stranger, 
unacquainted with the religion professed there, 
would most probably conclude that the Virgin 
Mary is the deity of the Italians. The appear- 
ance of the interior of the churches, and many 
indications in the streets, would incline him to 
that opinion. In the former he finds various paint- 
ings of her, placed generally in the most promi- 
nent places, and not unfrequently statues bearing 
her likeness, or wooden figures richly attired. In 
the latter he observes, at the corners of most streets, 
or " in triviis^'' a bust of the Virgin with a small 
lamp before it, and some words underneath ex- 
pressive of confidence or devotion. The altar 
of the Virgin has always the greatest number of 



18 i RESPECT TO THE VIRGIN; 

suppliants, while that upon which rests the em- 
blem of salvation^ the cross, has but a straggling 
worshiper. At the places for devotion* in the 
streets, also, a devout person may be occasionally 
found on his knees, deaf to the noise around him, 
undisturbed by car or cavalcade, paying his orisons. 

The days set apart in honour of the Virgin are 
very numerous, and are as much observed as the 
Sabbath, or probably more. The shops are closed, 
and to transact any business would be sacrilege. 
The street porter will refuse to carry the load of 
" legnia or fascine^''' with the excuse " Questa 
giorno ^ festa^ signorey The churches are all fre- 
quented, and vespers celebrated with much splen- 
dour; while the cardinal rolls along in his heavy 
vehicle to his own church, to take part in the ser- 
vice of the day, or to enhance it by his presence. 
The population wear their best attire, as we meet 
them in the thoroughfares. All — priest, citizen, 
and noble — unite in their homage. 

The processions in honour of the Virgin are 
both more numerous and splendid than any others 
which take place in the city. We see pictures 
of her borne along, or her image ; and the respect 

* Altar, I believe, is not the correct term for these ; but there 
are several places for worship, marked either by an image or cross. 



HER ALTARS AND PICTURES. 185 

that is shewn to these is universal and unequivocal, 
while the priest recites a service, in which the 
Virgin's name occurs frequently. At the sermons 
in the churches, two-thirds of them are filled with 
praises or invocations of the Virgin. " Santissima 
Maria^' falls upon the ear as frequently as the 
revered name of God does in our own liturgy. 
Sometimes the preacher points to her picture to 
enforce his positions, directing the eyes of his 
hearers there, where he endeavours to direct their 
hearts. It is the Virgin they have oflFended by 
their sins ; it is her they must invocate — she is to 
be their intercessor. 

I have also observed that the altar dedicated to 
the Virgin in most churches, but particularly in 
the chapels of the monasteries, is decked with the 
gayest flowers of the season — the perfume of the 
rose mingling with the stronger odour of the 
incense. In these chapels, also, the pictures of the 
Virgin are the most numerous. In some we find 
the crowning of the Virgin by angels, in others the 
clouds painted under her feet. In one I saw an 
extraordinary painting, which proves the respect, 
or rather reverence, in which she is held. Upon 
the circular roof was painted, and evidently by a 
very superior hand, our Saviour and God the 



186 ALTARS AND PICTURES OF THE VIRGIN. 

Father, and between these, but far above them, 
exalted into the highest position, was the figure of 
the Virgin. If we are to interpret it, it would 
seem, that, as she occupied the chief position, she 
had the chief power. The three figures were 
similarly placed to the three prominent figures in 
Raphael's " Transfiguration." Our Saviour, who 
is raised above Moses and Elias, properly repre- 
sents Him " who has all power in heaven and 
in earth." 

The most favoured subject of the painters, past 
and present, is the Madonna. Raphael, Murillo, 
Carlo Dolci, the Caracci, have derived an immor- 
tality from transferring her to their canvas. In 
every studio at the present day, from the humble 
room in the Via Capuccini to the salons of the 
Condotti or the Barberino, we find the Madre Ad- 
dolorata in number and variety. It is clear they 
paint for the demand. The supply would cease 
unless the customers were numerous. 

Under the busts or figures of the Virgin, which 
abound throughout the city, a lamp is always lighted 
in the evening. This is for her honour, and for 
the purpose of pointing her out to the devotion of 
the passenger. The words written underneath 
vary, but are always highly laudatory, and gene- 



INSCRIPTIONS. 



187 



rally consist of terms which should only be applied 
to the Supreme Being. It is frequently a single 
sentence: " Madre di Dio^pregate per mey 

In the Strada di Lavatore, there is a small 
statue of the Virgin, and underneath these words in 
Greek, 'EXttI? ifMov, The purport of the words 
clearly discloses the position she occupies in the 
mind of the Catholic. David addresses God as 
"my hope,'' Christians may well address our 
Saviour after that manner, as his atonement sup- 
plies them with the hopes of happiness and salva- 
tion. But we find here the province and the pri- 
vilege of the Saviour ascribed to her. In fact, she 
appears to them as superior to Him in authority 
and power, as a mother retains an influence over 
her child. They argue from earthly to heavenly 
things, and involve themselves in the difficulties 
which attend those who follow that practice in 
things to which they cannot apply. 

The Scriptures declare that the being, of whom 
Christ was born after a manner altogether miracu- 
lous, was highly favoured among women, but there 
is nothing that can be construed as supporting 
her worship. She was a human creature, and did 
not lose that nature by being the chosen vessel of 
the incarnation. God, the Trinity, is to be 



188 



WORSHIP OF THE VIRGIN. 



worshiped only. Adoration paid to anything else 
is idolatry. 

The modern Italians, however, are like their 
ancestors, who had their choice of temples and of 
shrines, to pray in and be purified. It is not im- 
probable the habits of their fathers have been 
transmitted with their blood, and have caused this 
pervading desire of exalting a female as a recipient 
of their adoration. There may be more in this 
than people commonly think. Probably when the 
people were called upon to surrender a Juno or 
Diana, they were resolved to have instead the 
statue or picture of the Virgin. At first the 
foundation may have been weak, but various 
circumstances may have strengthened it, and the 
priests, who might have been indisposed to it in 
the beginning, may have become willing converts, 
by reason, probably, of the golden streams it 
brought into the Church. 

At present the worship of the Virgin is placed 
upon the strongest foundations at Rome. Pope, 
priest, and people alike favour it. It is agreeable 
to their habits and wishes, so firmly interwoven 
with their system, that I am sure they are con- 
vinced, if her worship received a wound, the 
fabric of their religion would fall to pieces. This 



CONVERSION OF A JEW. 



189 



article of their creed gains strength daily, and, 
instead of giving way before extended knowledge 
and enlightened times, it takes a firmer hold upon 
their hearts and affections. The priests are not 
idle for the purpose of maintaining this belief, and 
various authentic narratives are told of the success- 
ful intercession of the Virgin, or of her miraculous 
influence. One that has occurred very lately, and 
that has been celebrated in all circles in the 
Eternal City, I shall here relate. 

A wealthy Jew of Germany had visited Rome 
for the usual purpose of travellers, to gaze upon 
the architectural beauty of its eloquent ruins, to 
admire its unrivalled pictures and statues, as well 
as to enjoy the summer freshness of its climate* 
and the richness of its scenery. He had formed, 
during his stay, some acquaintances amongst the 
priests, the aristocracy of Rome ; and, of course, 
among other attractions, he had visited several of 
the churches, remarkable for their own beauty, 
as well as the treasures of art deposited within 
them. 

One day, in his walks through the city, on the 

* In the climate of Italy, particularly of Rome, the sun during the 
winter months possesses a heat not much removed from what we 
experience in spring. 



190 



CONVERSION OF 



north of the Tiber, his companion happened to be 
a priest and a Jesuit. They had just passed the 
Collegio di Propaganda Fede, when the church of 
St. Andrea del Trate stood inviting them to enter. 
The Jew was a thorough unbeliever, and the things 
that he had seen at Rome confirmed it, so that, 
even in the hearing of his friend, he indulged in 
no measured sneer at the national worship. 

The church contains the usual number of paint- 
ings and images of saints, dressed in the fashion 
prevalent in Catholic countries. It need hardly 
be said that the whole appearance was equally 
opposed to the faith and the habits of the Jew. 
He condemned the priests and pitied the people, 
and thought the whole system as foreign from the 
service of God, as that which his forefathers found 
in the land of Canaan. Well, the Jesuit entered 
the sacred precincts, and with some difficulty 
brought the Israelite along with him. The Jesuit, 
at the Virgin's altar, fell upon his knees, and 
remained in fervent prayer, while the Jew examined 
what was worthy of attention in the place. More 
than usual he had the sneer upon his lip, " suspeii- 
dens omnia in adunco naso^^^ and sometimes his 
remark was so loud as to fall upon the ear of the 
prostrate priest. The holy water was an abomina- 



A JEW. 



191 



tion, — the images of the saints, idols, — the altars 
defiled. It occurred to the Jesuit to intercede 
for his erring friend: the altar at which he bent 
was a potent one; the conversion, if successful, 
well worthy his consideration. 

The time passed on in the dim religious place, 
and the faithful and the unbeliever continued 
occupied as before. Suddenly, with the speed of 
light, a change came o'er the features of the Jew. 
The sneer departed, the spirit which possessed him 
fled away. His face exhibited a feeling between 
fear and devotion, so strongly marked as to para- 
lyse for awhile the good Jesuit. He fell upon his 
knees, wrapt as it were in a trance, gazing with 
all the intentness of a saint towards the same small 
altar of the Virgin. He prayed, crossed himself, 
confessed, wept, and arose a new man, no longer 
a member of the sect of his fathers, but a Roman 
Catholic. A miracle had been performed. The 
Virgin, he said, appeared to him in bloom and 
beauty, clothed in light, beckoning him to her 
shrine, and v/elcoming him to the temple. An 
influence flowed from the vision deep and irre- 
sistible. Conviction at the moment flashed upon 
his mind. The decision was involuntary. He 
was no longer a Jew. 



192 SANTA MARIA MAGGIORE. 



He continued to gaze on the vision ; when he 
rose from his knees it departed. The Jesuit was 
dumb with surprise ; he saw the change that 
came o'er " the Jew, but he saw not the vision. 
This very Jew is now a Jesuit, has given his wealth 
to the college, and after a few years of study, 
being admitted to orders, will disseminate those 
doctrines of the truth of which he was convinced 
in so extraordinary a manner. Over this very altar 
a picture was immediately placed to commemorate 
the event, representing the Virgin with a globe 
under her feet, exactly as she appeared to him. 
The sacristan points to it with pride, and the 
people kneel before it in numbers. This account 
I have from undoubted authority. 

Again, it is a proof of the high regard in which 
the Virgin is held, from the number of churches 
that are dedicated to her. At the head of these 
stands Santa Maria Maggiore, a beautiful and ex- 
tensive structure. Hardly a church at Rome is 
to be found simply dedicated to God, but the saints 
come in for the honour. To the care of the Virgin 
is entrusted the largest part, evidently shewing the 
position she occupies in their minds. There is one 
church at Rome sacred to Jesus. It belongs to 
the Jesuits, and is know at Rome as the Gesu''' 



IL VOLTO SANTO. 



193 



At the rear of the church of Santa Maria 
Maggiore is a magnificent fluted column, of the 
Corinthian order, one of the most splendid remains 
of ancient times, although but a remnant. It be- 
longed to a colossal temple, and is worthy of the 
genius of the great people whose architecture kept 
pace with their conquests. Upon this column has 
been placed a bronze statue of the Virgin ; exhibit- 
ing by this act the degree of veneration in which 
she is held — standing upon the remains of an old 
temple, as if that gave way to establish the mode of 
worship of which she is a principal part. 

As a proof that this respect to, or reverence of, 
the Virgin is general, and not prevalent only at 
Rome, I may mention here an event connected 
with the Church chronicles of Lucca. 

IL VOLTO SANTO. 

There is an image in the cathedral at Lucca 
known by this appellation, the history of which is 
well worth relating, chiefly because it has a well- 
known precedent in antiquity, with the various 
matters relating to which it seems curiously, but of 
course without intention, to coincide. 

Some Italian mariners were sailing on the Me- 
diterranean, who observed at a distance an object 

K 



194 



IL VOLTO SANTO. 



floating. Thinking it worth following, they di- 
rected their course towards it. The weather hap- 
pened to be fine, and from want of wind it took 
them a good while to approach. They came up 
with it at length, and it proved to be a wooden 
image, rather well carved, and of a somewhat mys- 
terious appearance. They agreed that it repre- 
sented the Virgin. Without any more delay they 
took it into the vessel, better pleased than if it 
had been a rich prize, not doubting that it had 
been sent from heaven, or at least placed there by 
Divine means, for the edification and adoration of 
the Italians. The greatest care was bestowed 
upon their visitor during the remainder of the 
voyage ; the captain assigning it the chief place in 
his cabin, and holding sundry deliberations with 
his crew, as to how they should dispose of it upon 
making land. They all considered that the inci- 
dent of the day had made them happy men, and 
paved the future with something more than hope. 

Soon after, a fair wind sprung up, and loosing 
the canvas to the blast, they made direct for Leg- 
horn ; but upon nearing that port a violent storm 
arose, and after beating about, and in vain endea- 
vouring to effect their object, they were obliged 
to put away for Genoa. Shortly after Nature put 



IL VOLTO SANTO. 



195 



on a more smiling face, and the weather became 
moderate, and in due time they arrived within 
sight of the port. But upon endeavouring to enter 
Genoa, the elements enacted the same scene; the 
storm arose, the wind and the wave struggled fierce- 
ly together, and debarred all access. Almost in 
despair, but attributing these storms to reluctance on 
the part of the image of the Virgin to enter either 
of these harbours, they put about, and coasting 
back, they made for a small harbour contiguous 
to the principality of Lucca. When, lo ! all was 
propitious. By and by they land, when, having 
formed a small procession, they carry along the 
new palladium of Lucca with as much pomp as 
the old one of Troy. 

In due time the image of the Virgin arrived at 
Lucca, and was taken to the church of a monas- 
tery, when an extraordinary event happened. 
Upon the morning after her arrival she was no- 
where to be found. What had become of it ? Was 
the treasure stolen? Did the sea-captain repent 
of his resolution, and resume possession, befriended 
by the night ? While some doubted, and all were 
confounded, search was made in every quarter. 
In due time the image was found in another 
quarter of the city in an upright position. The 

K 2 



196 



IL VOLTO SANTO, 



devout monks, surprised not a little, and pro- 
nouncing a few " aves^'''' took it back. The doors 
were closed with greater care, and the azure twilight 
of Italy announced the approach of another night. 
On the following morning, again, the sacristan, 
aghast, announced to the brotherhood that the image 
had disappeared. The experience of the preceding 
day at once directed them where to go, and she 
was found in the same place and position. This hap- 
pened a third time; when the monks willingly agreed 
to relinquish their newly-acquired treasure, afraid 
of something serious happening to their commu- 
nity, if they should persist in their claim. Hence, 
it was determined to erect, on the spot where the 
image had chosen, a temple worthy of so miracu- 
lous and august a guest. The cathedral was forth- 
with commenced, and, as an inducement to sub- 
scriptions, the image found cast upon the ocean 
was exposed for the veneration of the multitude. 
Money flowed in, and the work progressed 
apace. 

One day an eminent citizen stood among the 
crowd, and it was evident that he regarded the 
whole matter with no very favourable eye. His look 
was full of contempt, his lip of sneers. The Ian- 
guage of his features did not escape the notice of 



IL VOLTO SANTO. 



197 



the attending priest The citizen's insane opinion 
evidently was, that it was a mere ruse of the clergy 
to serve a purpose. He even was overheard to 
say " It is all a farce, and I will not give a sous,'^ 
These remarks more than one heard in the neigh- 
bourhood of the image. The words had no sooner 
escaped his lips , when, wonderful to relate, the 
image stooped down, took off its gilt slipper, and 
flung it directly in his face. It is needless to say 
that he immediately became a convert, and brought 
all that he had and laid it at the feet of the 
clergy. 

Upon this festival the people flock into the 
cathedral from the whole country. The exposition 
of the image takes place, when the highest honour 
and adoration are paid. A priest stands beside 
her. He hastily with one hand receives a piece of 
silver, with the other the cross and beads of the 
suppliant. These he rubs to the toe or hand of 
the Virgin, and they are reverently received again. 
They then become a sort of talisman, protecting 
the owner from danger and accident. They de- 
posit it as carefully in their bosoms as if it were 
a cross of diamonds. Every Luccan is present at 
this ceremony, and it is regarded as a positive evil 
if anything happens to keep him away. 



198 



IL VOLTO SANTO. 



To the main facts here there is nothing added. 
The account or the legend every devout Luccan 
will tell. The analogy between this image and 
the palladium of Troy is very close. Its origin is 
like that of the latter : — 

" Creditur armiferao signum cceleste Minervae 
Urbis in Iliacss desiluisse juga." — Ovid, Fasti, 



BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 199 



CHAPTER XII. 

BURIAL OP THE DEAD. OBSEQUIES. — MORTALITY SOCIETIES. — 

MONUMENTS. INSCRIPTIONS. — CHAPEL OF THE CAPUCHINS. — 

ITALIAN CEMETERIES. — ENGLISH BURIAL-GROUND. 

In nothing are our habits and those of the 
Italians more marked and distinct, than in the 
mode in which the burial of the dead is conducted. 
As soon as life is extinct, some of the fraternities, 
the Capuchins or Franciscans, are informed of it, 
and to these alone is entrusted the conduct of the 
funeral. The relatives of the deceased fly to the 
country or to their friends, and thus leave the 
member they have lost to his cold couch and dark 
chamber. 

When " the first day of death has fled," the 
brothers of the convent assemble at the house, 
and carry the body to a neighbouring church, 
where they celebrate the obsequies ; as they pass 
in the streets they also sing in a dirge-like voice 
a service appropriate to the occasion. These alone 



200 



BURIAL OF THE DEAD. 



are the undertakers, the mourners, or the 
mutes. 

The father does not follow his child to the last 
bourne, or the husband the wife of his bosom as 
she departs to the sleep of the tomb. They 
descend to their last resting-place, unwept, un- 
honoured, but not " unsung." The body is in- 
terred in its clothes, as coffins are not the fashion 
at Rome. Sometimes the face is exposed as it is 
carried through the streets,* exhibiting to the 
thoughtless passenger the languor and the listless- 
ness of death. He may look upon the shrivelled 
features of age, the health of youth, or the vigour 
of beauty, slowly wending to the same goal. Wax 
tapers are always borne, and the bearers stand 
holding them, ranged at each side of the corpse, 
when it is brought into the church. Then a 
solemn or a short service is repeated, according, I 
suppose, to the wishes or the wealth of the sur- 
viving friends. Holy water is strewn upon it, and 
the vessel of incense sends forth its spicy clouds. 
"The last scene of all" then takes place, and it is 
hastily deposited in a vault of the church, or hurried 
off to one of the cemeteries which have lately been 
erected. 

This custom is now mostly confined to Naples. 



OBSEQUIES. 



201 



Though the Italian custom be very different from 
ours, it is a question whether it is not preferable. 
What can relations attending the obsequies of 
friends avail them? It is to pay them respect. 
But th« time for that is past. The ear of death is 
dull and cold, the heart insensible to attachment 
or attention. The bereaved friends afford, too, 
on such occasions, subjects of remark, according to 
the taste or feeling of the spectator. They afford 
themselves a spectacle which might be well spared. 
To the sincere they are trying moments, which 
serve no purpose but probably to aggravate the 
wound that Providence has dealt. To the super- 
ficial they bring a flimsy gravity which is easily 
seen through. Home is the sanctuary which, on 
such occasions, is best calculated to relieve the 
wounded spirit, where reflection, undisturbed by 
the public gaze or petulant remark, may feed on 
hope. 

When Death has seized his prize all is over, our 
endeavours are at an end. The spirit we loved 
has passed to another world; the eye that looked 
upon us is divested of its fire; the heart that beat 
for us, cold as the dew in the church-yard. It is 
but the wreck of the past, like a fallen leaf or a 
faded flower, divested of its tints and its perfume, 

K 5 



202 



MORTALITY SOCIETIES. 



which no heat of spring shall call again into life. 
It is not therefore necessary that we should accom- 
pany these dead relics with that regard and affec- 
tion which are the heritage only of the living. On 
such occasions the object that we loved could not 
be placed in better hands than in those of the 
Church. 

There are numerous mortality societies, which 
comprise in their body the lowest as well as the 
highest of the inhabitants. These undertake the 
burial of poor persons, and those whose relatives 
cannot afford the payments which on these occa- 
sions are made to the Church. They are fre- 
quently to be seen engaged in their melancholy 
office, but presenting a very curious spectacle, from 
every member being habited in a white dress. 
They also wear a hood or mask of the same mate- 
rial, with holes for the eyes only visible. They, it 
is clear, desire to preserve an incognito, since, being 
in many cases respectable persons, it is desirable 
to escape the public gaze. The employment is 
considered meritorious, and, like charity, washes 
away a multitude of sins. It is said that the Grand 
Duke of Tuscany is a member of one of these 
societies in his own dominions, and frequently 
takes his turn at the burial of the dead. They 



VAULTS. 



208 



carry a great number of wax lights, for the purpose, 
I suppose, of lighting the soul on its way to 
heaven, the route having been darkened so much 
by the devices of man in the city of the Popes. A, 
crucifix, or a picture of the Virgin, generally leads 
the procession. 

Up to a comparatively recent period no other 
places of sepulture existed except the vaults under 
the church. These vaults are to be found under 
every church, and are capacious receptacles. In 
point of fact, the flags under your feet are all 
grave-stones, each bearing a few vanishing memo- 
rials, frequently the coat-of-arms, and a rudely- 
carved effigy. It must appear at once that a prac- 
tice like this was highly injurious to the health of 
the city ; consequently it has, in some degree, been 
discontinued, and only wealthy or aristocratical 
houses retain their family vault. Two cemeteries 
have been established, which are the Golgothas 
of the modern city. 

The majority of these tombs belong to the fif- 
teenth and sixteenth centuries, and it well repays the 
trouble to examine them. The dress of the period 
is indelibly fixed upon them. No better or more 
authentic source could be found for ascertaining 
the costume of these times. A coat with a single 



204 



MONUMENTS. 



row of buttons, fixed tightly to the throat, as if 
the wearer was in the pillory, and frills, as we find 
them in the portraits of Charles II.'s reign, are 
found on the greater number. The female dress 
is also peculiar, hooped as in the Elizabethan 
era, or else fitting the person closely. No part 
of the church is exempt from these stones, 
the chancel is paved with them, as well as the 
aisle. Monuments are also very numerous. We 
find mostly an inscription surmounted by a well- 
executed bust of the deceased person ; often, also, 
statues of exquisite form and finish. These tri- 
butes, with which aflPection has gifted the dead, 
may be well reckoned amongst the most beautiful 
ornaments of the churches. It is clear that no ex- 
pense has been spared, and I think it not impro- 
bable that some of the happiest efforts of the 
sculptors of modern tinges will be found within the 
sacred precincts. There is in St. Peter's a skele- 
ton carved out of marble. It is a well-finished 
work, and proves that nothing is beyond Italian 
skill. The statuaries of the consular or imperial 
times were very happy at many objects besides the 
human figure ; the sculptors of our own age must 
yield them the palm here. 

The inscriptions are generally pompous and pro- 



MONUMENTS. 



205 



lix, setting forth the advantages of the defunct, and 
declaring how little the Saviour was in the mind 
of the survivor. I give the inscription from one 
monument in the English college. It is the type 
of its class. Swinburne, to whose daughter it was 
erected, had been long abroad, and imbibed pro- 
bably Italian habits and tastes in this as well as in 
other things : — 

" Martha Swinburne, born Oct. 10, 1758, died 
Sept. 8, 1778. Her years were few, but her life 
was long and full. She spoke English, French, 
and Italian, and had made some progress in the 
Latin tongue ; knew the English and Roman his- 
tories, arithmetic, and geography ; sung the most 
difficult music at sight, with one of the finest voices 
in the world ; was a great proficient of the harpsi- 
chord ; wrote well ; danced many sorts of dances 
with strength and elegance. Her form was beauti- 
ful and majestic, her body a perfect model, and all 
her motions graceful. Her docility and alacrity in 
doing everything to make her parents happy, could 
only be equalled by her sense and aptitude. With 
so many perfections, amidst the praises of all per- 
sons from the sovereign down to the beggar in the 
street, her heart was incapable of vanity. Aflfec- 
tation and arrogance were unknown to her. Her 



206 



CAPUCHIN CHAPEL. 



beauty and accomplishments rendered her the ad- 
miration of all beholders, the love of all those who 
enjoyed her company. Think, then, what the pangs 
of her wretched parents must be in so cruel a 
separation. Their only comfort is the certitude of 
her being completely happy, beyond the reach of 
pain, and for ever freed from the miseries of this 
life. She can never feel the torments they endure 
for the loss of a beloved child. Blame them not 
in indulging in innocent pride, or transmitting her 
memory to posterity, as an honour to her family 
and to her native country, England. Let this plain 
character, penned by her disconsolate father, draw 
a tear of pity from every eye that peruses it.*" 

The Capuchins of the monastery on the south 
slope of the Pincian are interred under their own 
church. After they have lain a sufficient time for 
the worm or the damp to divest the bones of the 
enveloping muscles, the brotherhood descend into 
the narrow house, and raise the skeleton from its 
long repose. They then place it in an upright 
position in the chapel exactly under the church, 
and dress it in the coarse robes the Capuchin 
wore during life. There may be seen a spectacle 
sufficiently harrowing. A group so gaunt and 
grim, probably, has never existed, except in the 



CAPUCHIN CHAPEL. 



207 



pages of poetry or romance. But truth is strange, 
stranger than fiction. There they stand, as silent 
as the grave they have left — dark and mute as 
midnight. It is a scene that freezes, casting over 
the heart some .of the gloom that surrounds the 
place, and reflecting there much of its desolation. 
The bare skulls and the hollow eyes meet you at 
every step; and it is impossible to divest oneself 
of the idea that they are unearthly, looking upon 
you, and searching into your soul. While we 
wander in this wide grave, imagination gives them 
life, and in the flickering shade of the torch, a limb 
seems now to be in motion, a hand now to be up- 
raised, those bare teeth seem to chatter, and that 
dark form to move suddenly towards you. 

There they stand in files, as if you had visited 
Pluto's realms, and beheld unveiled the dread pro- 
ceedings below. A minute before, all was life in 
the streets above ; here is the stillness and reality 
of death. There the Italian sun bathes towers and 
temples in its living light ; but here darkness was 
removed only to discover decay. I pity the poor 
Capuchin, who looks forward to this as his resting- 
place : denied the slumber of the tomb — that sleep 
that knows no waking, pillowed with no sister or 
sire, nor with the freshness of the morn over his 



208 



CAPUCHIN CHAPEL. 



cold bed, the sun-beams warming it into verdure, 
or the starlight falling on it, like messengers of 
heaven. His sleep is broken, the sanctuary of his 
repose defiled, that he may stand as a gazing-stock 
to the stupid populace — a mark for the sneer of 
the thoughtless, or the jest of the profane. Such 
a scene, certainly, can be of no use to the living, 
and is obviously deficient in respect for the dead. 
The earth, our common mother, claims those perish- 
ing elements, and it would seem to be sacrilege to 
take them from her bosom. 

The practice, however, is an ingenious plan to 
invest the character of their order with as much 
sanctity as possible. They thus, as it were, stand 
forth as priests for all time; their tongues made 
mute by death, but ready to enter again upon that 
oflSce, when some extraordinary agency shall be 
vouchsafed to awaken their energies. It is need- 
less to say that this care and show are not for 
nothing. On certain festivals this subterranean 
chapel is opened to the public, when a mixture 
of the living and the dead may be seen — a spec- 
tacle such as no capital that I am aware of can 
exhibit. 

I visited the cemetery outside the Porta San Lo- 
renzo, and was much surprised to find it so deso- 



ITALIAN CEMETERY. 209 

late a spot. One would have thought, from a 
knowledge of Italian character, that they would 
have bestowed some of their taste, and exercised 
their genius, in adorning or improving their burial- 
grounds. But the same spirit that has directed 
them to abandon their friends with their last 
breath, has also influenced them here. There is 
no record of affection, (I cannot call the few slabs 
that I met with by the name,) no neatness, no ves- 
tige visible, which tells that our feet are treading 
over the dead. The contrast between our retired 
grave-yards, — generally removed from the hum of 
life, each tenanted mound covered with verdure, and 
the trees not without their beauty, declaring, as it 
were, that, though death is around, they are full of 
the principles of life, while a mossy tower or tot- 
tering ruin is in unison with the scene, — must 
strike every observer. 

The Roman cemetery is an enclosed field, con- 
taining fifty-two vaults. The flag that covers each 
is level with the ground. One of these remains 
opens every week, and yawns darkly and dreadly 
for the victims of seven days. There are jumbled 
together the old and the young, the sickly and the 
strong. The bride, the widow, the mother, the 
child— all go down together. The friend and the 



210 



ITALIAN CEMETERY. 



foe lie side by side, their hands possibly clasped, as 
all alike are coflSnless. It is a wretched mass of 
flesh, garments, and putrefaction. Affection must 
be very blunt, or love but short-lived, that thus 
can suffer the objects upon which both were cen- 
tred to become inmates of this horrible charnel- 
house. But it is the custom of the country, and 
it is never questioned. 

Upon the walls, probably fifty yards off, some 
marble slabs are placed, erected by friends to tell 
that the remains of a father or a son are entombed ' 
in this cemetery. A lever lifts the flag whenever 
the procession of death demands it. At the con- 
clusion of a week quicklime is thrown in, it is 
then sealed for the year, when the next vault is 
opened to receive its human garbage. The grave, 
which is at the least the heritage of mortality, the 
poor Italian never knows with its decency, order, 
and cleanliness, but he is decreed to rot with 
hundreds, and not to mingle his dust with those of 
his household or his heart. The very position of 
the bodies, distorted, convulsed, ill at ease, seems 
to bespeak their degradation. 

There is no cypress nor willow, emblems of sad- 
ness, such as we meet with in the French cemeteries 
— mourners that outlive the grief that gives way to ^ 



CIMETERIO INGLESE. 



211 



time, and which look Uke nature's tribute to worth; 
no elm casting its shadows over the damp bed, 
through whose branches the winter wind pours its 
requiem for the dead, or sheltering the remains in 
autumn with its golden leaves ; but it is cold and 
bare as the mountain heath, as cheerless and as 
lonely as the wilderness. 

As the English usually congregate in large 
numbers at Rome, casualties will happen, so they 
have been obhged to procure a burial-ground. It 
'lies on the Via Ostia, and contains within its 
bounds the celebrated pyramid of Caius Sestius. 
This place, where many an English heart moulders, 
contains many eminent names, among whom are 
John Bell the surgeon, and Keats the poet. It is 
enclosed with a wall, and is upon the usual plan of 
our simple grave-yards. 

It is impossible for the tourist to enter this, or 
the cemetery at Leghorn, without feelings of deep 
melancholy ; at least, I do not envy him who has 
not such impressions. How many of his country- 
men who are at rest there, in this land of the 
stranger, passed their last moments with no friendly 
hand near! In their mortal struggles, their thoughts, 
like the gladiator's, were " far away," breathing 
wishes never to be heard, anxious for one meeting 



212 



CIMETERIO INGLESE. 



more, one look, one kiss, ere the scene closes on 
them for ever. The invalid, perhaps, who had 
sought the sunny shores of Italy on the pilgrimage 
for health, or the young and strong, cut off by the 
summer fever of this abode of malaria, are no 
doubt the most numerous occupants of the "Cime- 
terio Inglese." But the traveller, who comes to 
look upon the classic ruins of this lovely land, 
should let this spot also claim a moment of his 
time. It is due to those who rest there. Its effect 
will not be lost on himself. 



PALACES OF THE POPE. 213 



CHAPTER XIII. 

PALACES OF THE POPE. — THE VATICAN. THE LATERAN PALACE. 

THE QUIRINAL. — PRISONS. — POPULACE OF ROME. — STATE OF 

THE CPUNTRY. ITS POLICY. 

Albeit the Pope be but a bishop of the Church, 
and the great patron of celibacy, in person as well 
as precept, his wants are provided for as if he 
was the head of a numerous family, and required 
accommodation for their establishments as well 
as his own. He has no less than three extensive 
palaces within the walls of the city of Rome. 
To a temporal prince, who might people these 
vast chambers, or occasionally fill them by his hos- 
pitality, they would be natural and necessary. But 
what use they are to the crowned ecclesiastic who 
sits in St. Peter's chair, I am at a loss to deter- 
mine. Probably it had been more in accordance 
with the spirit of the Church if the dwelling of its 
head was less ostentatious and superb, as indicative 
of one who claims peculiar rights with regard to 



214 



PALACE OF 



that kingdom which is not of this world. These 
palaces are in no way inferior to other royal resi- 
dences, either in extent or ornament. They come 
before many, in these as well as in other respects. 

The palaces are the Vatican, St. John Lateran's, 
and the Quirinal. The Vatican adjoins St. Peter's, 
and is a part of that great structure. It stands 
upon its right, and is entered by the noblest stairs, 
possibly, in existence, from the great court in front, 
surrounded by the colossal colonnade of Michael 
Angelo. It is a square building, not imposing in 
its external appearance, and deriving its chief orna- 
nament from its neighbourhood and associations. 
The site is elegantly chosen, commanding exten- 
sive views. The city lies at its feet ; glimpses of 
the Tiber are caught from the windows, threading 
its way amid verdant hills and dark ruins. The 
Sabine hills appear in the distance, bounding the 
view — in some instances rocky and bare, at others 
green as the champaign. At their bases several 
villages are discerned, from which points to the 
sky the tower of some sacred edifice, or some rem- 
nant of Roman times. The beautiful Tivoli, 
eminently picturesque, is directly opposite, its 
white walls gleaming in the sun, relieved by the 
sober pines which shelter it from the Tramontane 



THE VATICAN. 



215 



blast. As you turn more to the south Frescati 
discovers itself, with its detached villas and num- 
berless terraces. Frequently the tints of the even- 
ing sun clothe the distant view in a deep azure, 
which slowly melts away in the twilight into the 
darker shadows of eve. Nearer the windows lies 
the mausoleum of Adrian, now the great defence 
of the Vatican,* while the deserted Campagna 
stretches on all sides until it is lost in the 
Appenines or the clouds. 

The Vatican contains within its walls the great 
museum of Rome, rich in the remains of antiquity. 
Statues, which have conferred immortality upon 
the maker, are in numberless variety. Bassi^ 
relievi, busts, urns, full of taste and genius, meet 
you at every step through these unequalled galle- 
ries. You are brought back to the times of the 
emperors, and hold communion with the greatest 
works of the mighty dead. 

The paintings are all master-pieces, objects 
which once seen leave their facsimile on the 
imagination. The objects in the Vatican museum 
are priceless. It must ever rank the highest and 
most interesting in the world. 

The chambers in this elegant palace amount to 

* Converted into the Castle of Saint Angelo. 



216 



PALACE OF 



several thousand, and the chief amongst them are 
covered with frescoes of the greatest painters of mo- 
dern times. The artists were Raphael, Guido, &c. 
The Pope inhabits a superb suite of apartments, 
situated in the inner quadrangle. The Swiss 
guard are always at hand, but not in any extensive 
force. They are clad in the most uncouth dress 
that I have ever seen worn by soldiers. They are 
exactly like the harlequins we see upon village 
stages, with coats and trousers of party-colours. 
They wear a hat and carry a halbert. His Holi- 
ness' household also remain in the palace, amount- 
ing to three or four cardinals, a few monsignores 
and prelates. 

The gardens are most extensive, and fitted 
up with much taste. There is a great profusion of 
ornament. Fountains send forth their clear and 
refreshing streams, sparkling in the sunshine; and 
many statues well worthy attention are dispersed 
through the grounds. There is a drive of upwards 
of a mile ; on either side of which rise hedges of 
box, growing luxuriantly, and clothed with a bril- 
liant green throughout the winter months. 

This is the Pope's winter residence, being the 
warmest and most delightful of the three. He 
seldom appears in public, never except to attend 



ST. JOHN LATERAN'S. 



217 



some procession, or to minister at some church. 
During six months he did not leave the precincts, 
except to be present one day at the Gesu."^ His 
extensive gardens combine all the advantages of 
the country. There he walks and drives, seen by 
no eyes except those of his cabinet and household. 
In this there is much worldly wisdom. For a 
person of the sacred character of his Holiness to 
appear often in public, would be to diminish the 
high feeling of veneration in which his office is 
held. Such a feeling is ever nourished and in- 
creased by keeping the object which excites it 
buried in the cloister, and concealed from human 
eyes ; just as the priests lock up the relics, and 
expose them only once or twice a year. 

The Lateran Palace is a large square building, 
and is the oldest of the papal residences. It was 
the seat, also, of some memorable Councils. It is 
situated in an unfrequented part of the city, and 
is by no means a favourite with the modern Popes. 
It contains some immense apartments, which are 
well finished ; but it yields in every respect to the 
Vatican. It adjoins the basihca of St. John Late- 
ran's. There are fine views from it, amongst which 

* The reader must remember that the author here speaks of 
Gregory XVI. 

L 



218 THE QUIRINAL PALACE. 



not the least interesting are the ruins in the 
neighbourhood. That noble monument of other 
days, the Colosseum, and some of the temples of 
the Capitol, are well seen. Albano lies to the 
south, crowning the summit of the hill, abounding 
in rural beauty and scenery of wood and water, 
more than any of the neighbouring villages. The 
mountains also add their dark forms to the land- 
scape, every crag lighted up at noon by the Italian 
sun, or casting their shadows over the plain as 
day melts into eve. 

This is the most retired palace of all, and would 
suit well with a studious, unambitious mind. If 
any Pope should turn misanthrope or hermit, no 
doubt he would select it. All the neighbourhood 
is peculiarly exposed to malaria ; it is said to be 
seldom without it. This is the chief reason why it 
is not much used. 

The Quirinal is the most modern, as well as the 
most beautiful, of the palaces of the Pope. It 
occupies the summit of the Quirinal Hill, or, as it 
has been named by the moderns, Monte Cavallo. 
It is situated in the heart of the city, of which 
it commands the completest view. A large and 
lofty front looks towards the south-west, ap- 
proached by handsome steps and a fine portico. 



THE QUIRINAL PALACE. 219 

from which a most extensive wing runs towards 
the east, fully 250 yards long. This great extent 
of building — in fact, in itself a town — encloses a 
garden laid out in modern taste, full of flowers and 
fountains, the circuit of which is one mile. The 
rooms are gorgeously fitted up, and are almost 
without number. Indeed, everything about this 
palace evidences the utmost neatness and finish. 
It is a residence worthy of the wealthiest sovereign 
of Europe, and is probably not surpassed in either 
dimensions or design. Certainly no bishop ever 
laid his head in a more royal dwelling. What 
use the wilderness of walls can be to him, it is 
difficult to say. He can only inhabit but a small 
part ; so I suppose the pile rose into its present ex- 
tent from the spirit of ostentation which seems to 
direct every movement of the Pope, whether he 
appears in the procession of St. Peter's, levels a 
piece of the Pincian hill, or presents a mutilated 
statue to one of the national museums. 

This is the summer residence of the Pope. It 
is very happily chosen, as, from its lofty site, the 
sultry heats are tempered by the winds that blow 
over the circle of hills which skirt the Campagna, 
In the lower parts of the town, when the sirocco 
prevails, the heat is excessive, and a languor and 

L 2 



220 



PRISONS. 



aversion to exercise ensue. This is to some extent 
avoided in the more exposed situations. Fever 
also always stalks in the valleys, while the inha- 
bitants of the higher streets are to a great degree 
exempted. Independently of these advantages, it 
was only fair to place the Pope upon the loftiest of 
the seven hills ^ — the Quirinal. It looks like a 
citadel, viewed from various quarters of the city, 
only that it has more of the pacific appearance 
than is usually to be found in those buildings 
which crown commanding eminences. At all 
events, whether it be useful or otherwise, it is a 
handsome addition to the buildings of Rome, and 
the chief ornament of that part of the city in which 
it is placed. 

Very different is the state of papal Rome from 
that of the early commonwealth, when the poet 
describes it — 

" Sub regibus atque tribunis 
Viderunt uno contentmn carcere Romam." 

The prisons in the city now are both numerous 
and formidable; and they are frequently not large 
enough for defaulters. This argues a diseased 
state of society, of which the chief cause is the 
wretched system of government which exists, — that 
suffers its principal duties to be engrossed by the 



POPULATION OF ROME. 



221 



internal affairs of the Church, and bestows but 
little time upon the condition of the people or the 
welfare of the country. 

It seems a problem to discover how the mass of 
the lower orders maintain themselves. They are 
ever idly disposed, and seldom occupied. To be 
sure, their wants are satisfied at a small price, 
where both wine and bread — the common food — 
are cheap and abundant. But dishonesty gene- 
rally prevails, and the wealthy, no doubt, without 
either their knowledge or assent, contribute to 
their subsistence. One great cause of the idle 
habits which characterise the peasantry and the 
populace is the frequently occurring festivals of 
the Church. A week seldom passes over with- 
out two or three ; upon which the shops are closed 
and all business suspended, — the only active indi- 
viduals to be met with being the various orders of 
the priesthood, from the cardinal to the curate. 
On these days they lie in the sun like the lazzaroni 
at Naples, or car punt diem " in playing the game 
oi pallone. The ceremonies of the Church are the 
chief concern, and everything else is but of second- 
ary importance. 

The consequences of this system are everywhere 
visible. Agriculture is neglected, the people in a 



222 STATE OF THE COUNTRY. 



wretched condition; the level and rich plains which 
stretch away from the walls to the mountains are 
deserted ; not a field is to be found in a state of 
tillage, with the exception of the gardens and 
grounds of the few villas which lie contiguous to 
the city. Though in summer these plains are un- 
healthy, nature has endowed them with great 
fertility, and they would be capable of producing 
the vine or the olive in profusion, and corn for the 
supply of the city. But these truths escape the 
notice of all, and the only tenants of the extensive 
Campagna are a few herds of buffaloes. The eye 
will not rest on a farm-house for miles; the only 
symptoms of life and animation are the shepherds 
and the flock. Not a tree is to be seen over this 
wide surface watered by the golden Tiber and 
many tributary streams, where the chestnut might 
supply the wants of thousands, or forests be reared 
for the fuel of the inhabitants. 

It would look as if the open country lay exposed 
to the incursions of banditti or wild beasts, as is 
the case in an African colony, and that all fled for 
refuge to the towns. This supposition, however, 
is without foundation, as the robbing system is on 
the wane in Italy. The people want enterprise, 
because they want encouragement. They are still 



POLICY OF GOVERNMENT. 



223 



active and intellectual where occasion calls for it. 
And if the government, instead of wasting the 
finances upon the embelUshment of churches, would 
promote rewards for industry, or improve the in- 
struments of husbandry, and protect the well-dis- 
posed, the aspect of the country would soon 
undergo a beneficial change, the state obtain a 
better class of subjects, while the advance in in- 
dividual happiness would be such as a numerous 
population have a just claim to, and would surpass 
the expectation of the most sanguine. 

Such results, however, I fear, must be hoped for 
in vain. The Church is the dial that regulates 
everything in this land. It is a fixed star, — ^itself 
incapable of change or amelioration, — which has 
transferred its unyielding nature and properties 
to other institutions. There is nothing so much 
dijeaded in Rome as novelty. Novelty or change 
in agriculture or commerce would probably produce 
novelty in opinions, and thus lead to novelty — to a 
reformation of religion. Hence, to the prejudice or 
caution which sways the Papal cabinet, it seems 
far better to leave the country in its present miser- 
able state, than, by improving it, run any hazard 
to themselves or their Church. Consequently, the 
only harvest that they reap, and will be likely long 



224 PRISONS AND PRISONERS. 



to do, are political commotions and general depra- 
vity. It is this system that fills the gaols, replen- 
ishes the galleys, and does not suffer the execu- 
tioner's hands to be idle for lack of employment. 

Rome ought to be, and probably is reckoned by 
many unacquainted with it, a model for other 
countries in the management of its institutions, 
and in the order of its population. Where religion 
is borne upon every breeze, and a clerical vestment 
brushes your coat every ten minutes, a moral feel- 
ing may be thought to run through society, and to 
regulate the practice of all. The prisons, however, 
never empty, tell a different tale. It is very unplea- 
sant, in passing through the streets, to see the 
objects that are cooped up in them, crowding to 
the windows for air, and in some cases asking a 
baiocco of the passengers, as if their keepers do 
not sufficiently supply the wants of nature. 

The dress of the convicts and prisoners is a 
coarse striped cloth, and in most cases they are 
fettered two by two. The able-bodied who are 
under sentence of confinement for life, or a less 
term, are engaged in the public works. They 
generally have their offence written upon their 
backs. To one who asked something of me as I 
passed, and who looked sufficiently miserable, I 



PRISONS. 



225 



gave a small coin, but felt very unpleasant when 
in walking away I read the word Homocidio'' 
upon his back. 

There is a large prison in the Strada Giulia ; 
another on the south bank of the Tiber, near the 
church of Santa Maria in Trastevere ; one on the 
Via Ostia, near the church of St. Paul's ; an ex- 
tensive one at the Campidoglio, mostly for political 
offenders. The Castle of Saint Angelo, formerly 
the mausoleum of Adrian, is also used as a prison. 
There is another as you enter from the San 
Lorenzo road. This is pretty well for a popula- 
tion not amounting to an hundred and fifty thou- 
sand, and proves incontestably the state of society 
under the paternal government of the Popes, 

Italy, although full of beauty, has been always 
full of crime. It is well described by the poet as 
, a land " where all is fair but man/' The banditti, 
which rendered it dangerous to pass through the 
open country, especially by night, are now nearly 
extirpated. To Lambruschini's and his prede- 
cessor's vigorous exertions this happy event is 
owing. He has annexed capital punishment to 
many of those offences to which his countrymen 
are prone. It is said, that if a robbery takes place^ 
and blood is drawn in the fray, no matter how 

L 5 



226 



PRISONS. 



small the property taken or the blood spilt, the 
offence is expiated on the scaffold. This improve- 
ment is particularly visible in the neighbourhood 
of Rome. There are, however, several wild tracts 
where the hardy mountaineer fearlessly stops the 
passenger. The Romans, however, are at the 
present day far superior to their neighbours the 
Neapolitans. Owing to the weak or injudicious 
government of that kingdom, the trade of the 
brigand flourishes ; and when it suits him he stops 
the diligence, and lays the passenger under tri- 
bute, by paying which, if he escapes more serious 
injury, he may reckon himself fortunate. 

The gaols in Rome are filled by all the hues and 
phases of crime ; but possibly the jealousy of those 
in power has incarcerated a considerable number 
for giving too much freedom to liberal opinions, or 
who had been actually engaged in those petty 
political movements which have of late taken place 
in the States of the Church. 



ENGLISH CHURCH. 



227 



CHAPTER XIV. 

ENGLISH CHURCH. TOLERATION.— CONTRAST BETWEEN TUSCANY 

AND ROME. — COLLEGES. — COLLEGE OF THE PROPAGATION OF THE 

FAITH. — ENGLISH, IRISH, AND SCOTCH COLLEGES. — GHETTO. 

STATE OF THE JEWS. 

Through the influence of that truly liberal states- 
man Cardinal Gonsalvi, now no more, permission 
was obtained to have an edifice for the celebration 
of the Church of England service, for the purpose 
of supplying the wants of the numerous British 
subjects occasionally sojourning at Rome. It was 
situated in the Corso, the Regent-street of Rome. 
It was generally looked upon with aversion, and, 
although the population refrained from insult, it 
was evident they felt displeased. This feeling, it 
is clear, more or less extended through all classes ; 
for upon Gonsalvi's death, and soon after the ac- 
cession of the late Pope,^ the English church was 
closed, and unceremoniously thrust outside the 



Gregory XVI. 



228 



TOLERATION. 



walls. It is now situated outside the Porta del 
Popolo. The city was too pure to suflFer so errone- 
ous a worship within its walls, so it is placed in a 
remote spot, where it may no longer offend either 
populace or priest. 

Such is the toleration of Rome in the present 
age ; and that to England, by whose blood and 
treasure she was rescued from the grasp of France, 
and to whose prowess she owes her existence as a 
separate state. The present building is very plain, 
and affords as great a contrast to the churches of 
the national worship in its vicinity, as there is 
between the respective religions. But though its 
exterior hardly denotes its use, it is well attended. 
The equipages that are drawn up at the doors on 
Sundays are very numerous, and prove that our 
countrymen are glad to avail themselves of the 
privilege of calling upon God in common, bearing 
into foreign lands that character of gravity which 
belongs to them at home. 

There seems to be no restriction inside, as the 
preacher spoke very freely and fearlessly of the 
ceremenies and doctrines of the Romish Church — a 
subject which it is equally the duty and the interest 
of the clergyman to enlarge upon, where there are 
many minds to whom such things are novel and 



TOLERATION. 



229 



imposing. The Romish ecclesiastics are aware of 
this, and, though they look upon them with jea- 
lousy, I am glad to say they have recourse to no 
other weapons but argument. In the church of 
St. Andrea della Valle, as well as in some other 
churches, sermons are preached by eminent men, 
which generally during the Lent are of a contro- 
versial character, but decidedly free from any vio- 
lence or recrimination. They, no doubt, are meant 
not to offend any ears, as it is possible some of the 
auditory may be members of the Church of Eng- 
land. Their arguments are calculated rather to 
win than to wound. It is desirable to see such a 
spirit abroad, and is gratifying to one that looks 
back upon the red page of the Church history. At 
the same time it is to be lamented that intolerance 
should so far prevail, as to induce the government 
to drive a pure Christian church, as if it were 
a plague spot, from the city. It was neither pru- 
dent nor wiscc If the English Government had 
acted in a similar manner towards its Roman Ca- 
tholic subjects, no doubt the Roman See would be 
the first to remonstrate upon the subject. With 
this exception the English are highly favoured at ' 
Rome, and by all classes. The name Inglese 
admits to everything that is to be seen, and is 



280 



CONTRAST BETWEEN 



a passport to all society. It is the wealth pro- 
fusely disseminated by English subjects that main- 
tains the city. It is not improbable, as the Eng- 
lish consul hinted to me, that grass would soon 
grow in the thoroughfares if our countrymen did 
not make their annual visit there ; it was, therefore, 
an ill requital to offend them in that point which is 
dearest to the heart of every man — his religion. 
But the climate of Rome is so delicious, and the 
land so lovely, that I fear, if the church were 
closed, it would not be an insuperable barrier to 
their annual winter sojourn. 

The contrast between Tuscany and Rome, in a 
variety of important particulars, is very marked. 
The country is well cultivated, and the people 
look contented and happy. We see no desolate 
tracts like the Campagna, where nature is fer- 
tile, but man is indolent;* no plains like those 

* The author of " The Diary of an Invalid " says, speaking of the 
indolence of the Romans, " The barrenness of the Campagna has been 
attributed to the national indolence, which will not be at the pains of 
cultivating it. But I believe it would be more correct to say, not 
that the Campagna is barren because it is not cultivated, but that 
it is not cultivated because it is barren and he then refers to Livy 
(lib. vii. c. 38) to shew that in those days it was also sterile and un- 
healthy. My opinion, from actual observation, is very different. 
The soil is generally a rich loam of a dark colour, and in the spring 
months is covered with verdure. That it is capable of producing 



TUSCANY AND ROME. 



231 



between Civita Vecchia and the capital, which 
afford but scanty pasturage to a few buffaloes, 
where corn and wine with very little care could 
be abundantly supplied. Tuscany is not unFike 
England. The land is divided into farms, upon 
which the occupier dwells in a comfortable, and 
frequently a picturesque house. Not a field is 
suffered to lie waste, but in every direction the 
wheat waves its green ear, and luxuriant meadows 
are spread before the eye ; while the hedgerows 
and divisions are planted with vines, bearing evi- 
dent marks of skilful culture. The peasantry also 
are well clad, and in general appear to be a 
class far superior to those of either Naples or 
Rome. 

In the towns, also, the difference is equally 
striking. None of that indolence in look and man- 
ner is met with which characterises so many in the 
streets of Rome. There is the bustle of business. 
Idlers there are none; every one is employed. 

abundance of com there can be but little doubt. It only wants to be 
subjected to the usual process of tillage. I admit that the tract is 
more or less visited by malaria during the heats of summer, but this 
would be mitigated, no doubt, by the plough, the atmosphere being 
admitted to produce its purifying effects. Many tracts in Italy, simi- 
larly situated, are injurious to health in the months of July and 
August, but they are not on that account unproductive. 



232 CONTRAST BETWEEN 

The sea-port, Leghorn, enjoys an extended com- 
merce. There are no harassing duties ; hence the 
products of other countries find free admission to 
supply the wants of the Tuscans, while the great 
national exports, oil and corn, are in constant 
demand. The commercial pursuits in which the 
merchants are engaged give employment to 
a large number of persons, as well upon the 
Arno and the canals as at sea. The buildings, 
too, are constructed more for utility than ostenta- 
tion ; shops, stores, and arcades being far more 
numerous than palaces. The money of the state 
is not lavishly bestowed on the increase or embel- 
lishment of churches which are not required, but 
upon the improvement of the port and the develop- 
ment of the country's resources. Lines of canals 
run in various directions, and useful strade diferro 
connecting the cities are already finished, while 
more extensive works of the same nature are 
spoken of. 

The Grand Duke is a clear-headed and not a 
narrow-minded man, who feels no hesitation in 
adopting the improvements of modern times, and 
introducing the fruits of skill and science into his 
dominions. He lays no embargo upon enterprise; 
and though such has ever been the policy of his 



TUSCANY AND ROME. 



233 



government, he runs no risk of having the esta- 
blished order of things disturbed. The people are 
eminently quiet. Sedition or political movement, 
while it makes the Pope and the cardinals very 
uneasy, and still threatens them, is here totally 
unknown. 

But in the point of toleration, chiefly, Tuscany 
has much the advantage of Rome. The govern- 
ment afforded every facility for building the Eng- 
lish church ; no impediment was thrown in the 
way* It is placed in the city, and, with the Cimi- 
teriolnglese attached, is an ornament to it. How 
desirable it is to see a Roman Catholic prince giv- 
ing the example of toleration to the Roman See, 
and not adopting the selfish policy of the latter. 
It probably required some degree of courage to 
do so, although it was only really carrying out 
the enlightened principles long acted on in the 
other countries of Europe. 

And what is the consequence of the policy to 
which I have referred ? The state has the seeds 
of permanence implanted within it. Its various 
institutions are deeply founded in the affections of 
the people, and, as a consequence, general content- 
ment prevails. The progress of Tuscany is just 
in equal proportion to the decline of Rome. 



234 



COLLEGES. 



Whatever trade the latter has is daily falling oflf ; 
and the movement in the States of the Church, often 
repressed, but as often breaking out again, proves 
the precarious tenure of St. Peter's successors. 
These attempts are indications of a diseased state 
of things, the causes of which are deeply seated, 
not so much in the framework of society, as in the 
mode by which the country is governed. The 
people enjoy no representation — have no voice 
whatever in the public weal. Authority resides 
singly in the breast of the Pope and in that of his 
cabinet. The Italians look upon the free institu- 
tions of England and France, and sigh for some 
measure of liberty approximating theirs. What 
also adds bitterness to their feelings and wings 
to their exertions, is that they know that they are 
the descendants of freemen, and they cannot but 
account themselves as degenerate sons of a race of 
heroes. 

There are several Colleges at Rome, among 
which the chief are the University, the CoUegio di 
Propaganda Fede, the English, Irish, and Scotch 
colleges, as well as those of other nations. The 
University is an extensive institution, and has the 
usual number of professors. It has produced some 
men of considerable eminence. Degrees are here 



COLLEGIO DI PROPAGANDA FEDE. 235 

conferred upon the ecclesiastics of all countries. 
It has also its library and museum. 

The College of the Propagation of the Faith is on 
an extensive scale. Its front extends towards the 
Piazza di Spagna, In the constructionj'accommoda- 
tion has been consulted rather than ornament. 
Here there are professors of almost all languages, 
in which young men are instructed for the ministry, 
and sent upon foreign missions. The wealth of 
this college is unbounded, and it is all expended 
for the purpose of increasing the confines of the 
Church. A cardinal resides in the house, and is 
"prefect" or president, with a long string of 
officers under him. The scholars vary from two 
to four hundred, and are of all nations. I have 
seen Jews of Asia Minor, Africans, and even a 
Chinese, in the academical dress— a long gown 
with a red border. I attended a rehearsal, which 
takes place upon every Epiphany, in the theatre. 
The youths had each a written subject, which 
they, in their turn, read aloud to the audience. 
The number of languages, to which some dialects 
were, however, added, was forty-nine. Arabic, 
Persian, Chinese, Hebrew, Irish, were among the 
number. They acquitted themselves well, and 
shewed how perfect is that system of education 



2o6 COLLEGIO DI PROPAGANDA FEDE. 



which is pursued in the establishment. When 
they are complete masters of the language, and 
have received orders, they proceed upon their 
mission, and, as they are generally accomplished 
men, they are no doubt successful. 

This college has ever been the favourite of the 
Popes, and the great engine of conversion. It was 
established for the very purpose of supplying a 
superior class of ministers, not so much to combat 
the positions of the Reformers, as to counterbalance 
the inroads they have made upon the Church, by 
fresh accessions in other lands. Hence, India and 
the Pacific are supplied from this source; and, 
from their knowledge of the tongues of the people 
to whom they are sent, joined also to an acquaint- 
ance with their character, we cannot be surprised 
if they are favourably received, and that the cause 
they have in hand progresses. I am surprised that 
we have not taken a leaf from, their book, and esta- 
blished a similar institution, and for a similar pur- 
pose. The idea is an admirable one, to have minis- 
ters, as it were, of all nations, ready to take what- 
ever post the exigency of the times, or peculiar 
circumstances, demand. The Jews gave greater 
heed to Paul when he spoke in Hebrew, and so 
will every new people listen with attention 



THE ENGLISH COLLEGE. 



287 



to the teacher conversant with their native lan- 
guage. The missionary often goes abroad, and 
defers learning the language of the country 
until he has arrived within its limits; a method 
by which time is lost and trouble increased. 
The true plan is that of the Propaganda. The 
abilities of the pupil are consulted, and from 
an early age he is required to give his sole atten- 
tion to one of the eastern languages, so that he is 
able at length to express himself as fluently in that 
as in his mother tongue. They go upon their 
missions with ardour, and fearlessly make their 
way among savage and uncivilised people, as the 
past and present history of this institution amply 
attests. 

The English College is situated in a small street, 
entered from the Piazza Farnese. The exterior is 
plain, but the house is large, and capable of accom- 
modating a much greater number than usually 
reside within its walls. It was very probably a 
monastery, as the plan is in some respects the 
same. It has its refectory and chapel — the latter a 
small and simple building. The pupils do not 
appear to amount to more than fifty, and are of a 
superior class to those designed for the ministry in 
Ireland. It is governed by a rector and vice- 



238 



THE IRISH COLLEGE. 



rector. They are generally chosen for their learn- 
ing and abilities. Dr. Wiseman was rector when 
elevated to a see. Dr. Baggs succeeded him, and 
also received episcopal consecration at Rome in 
1844. It is a highly respectable post, the possessor 
of which frequently enjoys the confidence of the 
Pope. The president of this College generally 
calls upon the English residents. Dr. Baggs was 
a gentlemanlike man, and took a pleasure in 
offering his services to his countrymen. 

There are some marble slabs in the hall, record- 
ing the visit to the college of one or two Popes ; 
and on the first lobby one is erected which men- 
tions the visit of some of our royal family.* In 
a recess, to the left of the entrance-hall, are seve- 
ral ancient and curious monuments, collected, I 
am inclined to believe, from various churches in 
the city, where they lay unnoticed and neglected. 

The Irish College is situated on the Monte 
Cavallo, near the Villa Aldobrandini. It is tole- 
rably extensive, and kept in good order ; but, from 
the state of the furniture and apartments, the 
revenues must be small. The pupils vary from 
fifty to an hundred. The rector is Dr. Cullen, a 
man of whose abilities and character I can fur- 

* The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, if I recollect rightly. 



THE IRISH COLLEGE. 



239 



nish little information. There are other lecturers 
in the college. The reason, probably, why these 
young men are instructed for the ministry, when 
they have Maynooth at home, is to supply a class 
of teachers more elevated from mixing with the 
world and society, and who have advantages of 
becoming acquainted with the doctrines and dis- 
cipline of the Church which are denied them at 
home. 

I think it is generally the case that the fo- 
reign educated priest is the more polished gen- 
tleman, and less likely to set his parish in a blaze 
by dedicating a large share of his time and 
labours to politics; because, being removed from 
his country so long, in addition to other softening 
influences, he shares his affection and allegiance 
with Rome.* Whereas the Maynooth priest is 
moved by every wave of political turmoil which 
agitates the country. He imbibes along with 
logics and "humanity" the pervading love of 
agitation ; and when he is liberated from the dis- 
cipline of the college, it is no wonder that he 
should become a prominent champion of the vi- 
sionary grievances of that class from which he is 
taken. As long as the priest is identified with 

* Not the Church merely, but with the place and people. 



240 THE SCOTCH COLLEGE. 



the peasantry, it will not be easy to guard 
against this. His associations will always be with 
that " stock from which he is hewn." Better 
days would rise upon Ireland, and prospects of 
true peace and happiness light up her horizon, 
if the Roman Catholic gentry infused their blood 
and their love of order into the priesthood. 

The chapel of this college is a more ambitious 
structure, and is dedicated to St. Agatha, though, 
of course, with her festival that of St. Patrick's 
holds an equal place. 

The pupils are clad in a dress almost similar to 
those studying at the Propaganda. They walk 
through the city in a long file of two abreast, 
accompanied by the senior scholar or the mode- 
rator of the day. This order it is not necessary to 
preserve outside the walls, and it is amusing to see 
how willingly they forget the commands of the 
professor on the Appian or Flaminian way. 

The Scotch College is presided over by Dr. Grant, 
a modest and unobtrusive ecclesiastic. The wants 
of the Scotch are easily supplied, so both establish- 
ment and pupils are on a small scale. The foun- 
dation is laid, principium est dimidium facti^''' 
and it is probably fondly hoped that there will be 
necessity for its extension hereaftor. 



GHETTO, OR JEWS' QUARTER- 241 

The Jews are rather numerous at Rome,* much 
more in number than it is likely they should be 
found where they are exposed to exaction and 
oppression. They inhabit a quarter upon the 
banks of the Tiber, which is remarkable more for 
the filth than the cleanliness of the people — for 
poverty than wealth. There are gates upon it, 
which from sunset to sunrise are closed upon the 
luckless Israelites. They are not allowed to re- 
side in any other part of the city; and recently an 
order has been promulgated by the Pope,f to the 
effect that they must not have Christian servants 
or apprentices. This, I believe, results not so 
much from an intolerant spirit, as from fear lest 
the Jew should convert the Christian to his faith 
a very unhkely thing. They are left to their cus- 
toms within the Ghetto. No church has obtruded 
upon its limits ; but immediately opposite the 
gate a church has been erected, over the door of 
which is a large fresco of the crucifixion. The 
church was probably built to receive any repentant 
follower of Jacob ; but it was not good taste to place 
the picture in such a locality, standing forth, as it 

* In the year 1709 the Jews amounted to eight or ten thousand. 
It is a question whether they come up to this number at present 
At all events, they do not exceed it. 

t Gregory XVI. 

M 



242 



STATE OF 



were, to upbraid them with the death of the 
Saviour. 

In all other places restrictions have been re- 
moved from the Jews, who have proved themselves 
good citizens and valuable members of society; 
but Rome alone beholds these restrictions renewed, 
and the whole class exposed to annoying prohibi- 
tions, according more with the genius of past 
times than the milder influences of the present age. 
It is a part of the weak and senseless policy which 
has too frequently regulated the Papal decisions. 
These people, instead of contributing by their 
wealth and standing in society to the welfare and 
permanence of the State, are kept from embark- 
ing in any enterprise, and are consequently broken- 
spirited and poor. The Jews in Germany are 
amongst the wealthiest and the most respectable 
of the inhabitants ; and it is a great error to ima- 
gine that they are not attached to that order of 
things which contributes to their prosperity and 
happiness. 

There are no indications whatever of aflBuenee 
among the Jews at Rome. There are some 
mean jewellers*' shops, but the great majority 
carry on a very inconsiderable trade in clothes, 
old and new. The female portion of the families 



THE JEWS. 



248 



generally sit in the streets, and are engaged in 
making or repairing garments. 

The women are by no means prepossessing, and 
inherit none of those charms which led Jacob so 
long to serve for the fair Rachel. Their persons 
are large and fat, and the features too plump and 
round for beauty. The men are better-looking, 
possessing frequently dignity and thought in their 
countenances. The cast of features is not so de- 
cidedly Jewish as we meet with elsewhere ; but the 
reason of this seems to be, that the contrast with 
the Italian face is less than with us. 

From the situation of this little colony, as may 
be imagined, every endeavour is made for the con- 
version of its members. The missionaries employ 
their tongues or their pens in the cause, but 
seldom with any success. The attachment of the 
Jews to the faith of their fathers is proverbial; and 
it is by no means likely, if they were inclined to 
change it, that they would adopt the religious sys- 
tem they have before their eyes in the Eternal 
City. The statues* that abound in every church 
must be, on the threshold, an insuperable ob- 
jection, he number of Jews who have embraced 
Romanism has been limited, and, no doubt, will 

* Or images of saints. 

M 2 



244 



STATE OF 



ever continue so. Men will not so easily suf- 
fer their prejudices to be offended, their simple 
worship to be shocked, by so many competitors. 
When the Jews abandon the Mosaic law, it will be 
to embrace a religion consistent with the writings 
of the Prophets, whose meaning they may at 
length learn that they have misunderstood. Where 
they see its fulfilment and its observance, when 
their understandings are enlightened, we may 
naturally conclude they will attach themselves. It 
is said, however, that occasionally a converted Jew 
is baptized at St. John Lateran's, but I did not hear 
of very many instances. Another plan is some- 
times had recourse to. If Jewish children are 
occupied in the city at trades or otherwise, their 
minds are imbued with the Roman Catholic doc- 
trine; and if induced to assent, they are at once ad- 
mitted to the Church by baptism, no regard being 
paid to the remonstrances of parents or friends. 

Although the Jews are cooped up in this quar- 
ter, and certainly shew no signs of afHuence, they 
look happy and contented. The women sing at their 
occupations, while their open faces betray no un- 
easiness of heart ; the children play with each 
other, and their frequent and merry laughs are 
signs of well-supplied and quiet homes. 



THE JEWS. 



245 



It is to me a subject of wonder that the Jews 
should remain at Rome at all, when so many coun- 
tries would be willing to receive them. The 
United States, or our own colonies, would be the 
field for such industrious and well-ordered citizens 
as they have always proved themselves. But 
they, possibly, share with others that universal 
principle, the love for the "natale solum'' While 
they keep in view the Canaan — their fatherland — 
they cannot but look with affection on that which 
constitutes their home, where are the graves of 
their parents, the hallowed tombs of their friends. 
And, though they have the marks of intolerance 
about them and around them, the present times 
see them on the increase rather than on the wane. 
Kindred and familiar associations bind them toge- 
ther and reconcile them to their lot. They prefer 
the narrow compass of the Ghetto, with its filth 
and confinement, to the rewards that industry 
acquires in most lands — honour and affluence. 

What singular interest attaches to this people, 
scattered amongst all others without mingling with 
them ! In all other instances that we are ac- 
quainted with, the influx of strangers has been 
incorporated with the population to which the 
tide of events has borne it. But these remain 



246 



STATE OF 



single and separate, marked out themselves by 
the peculiar stamp of their features ; they also 
performing their part by the distinctive rite of 
circumcision, evidently retained by the hand of 
Providence for other times and other fortunes. 
It was unnecessary for the Pope to make this 
separation stronger by placing them in a sort of 
quarantine ; they v^ould not have mingled with his 
people, although he wished it. But he has served 
to make more significant some of the passages 
from the prophetic writings, although that was 
in nowise his object. 

Rome remains the only state where those foolish 
and fanatic laws remain in force, which visit upon 
the expatriated Jews the crimes of their progenitors. 
Other kingdoms formerly pursued the same course, 
during those times when the exiled Israelites were 
persecuted with unrelenting severity; but their 
present conduct is a palliation of their former 
offence against the laws of humanity and nature. 
The Jew has assumed throughout Europe the po- 
sition to which intelligence and integrity always 
exalt the possessors. Their conduct, equally un- 
obtrusive and honourable, has proved the conclu- 
sion of those who thought that they could only 
cabal against Christianity, to be absurd, and has sig- 



THE JEWS. 



247 



nified to the world that they are among the most 
valuable members of society, as tending to im- 
prove it by their persevering industry, as well 
as to preserve it by their peaceable demeanour. 

The method pursued at Rome must defeat the 
object it has in view, as oppression is seldom 
known to proselytise: conciliation should be the 
first step, and not a line of conduct full of harsh- 
ness and suspicion. The sun has set upon them, 
and the liberty which the remaining population 
of Rome enjoys is unknown to them, until revisited 
by its rising beams. The Tiber flows past their 
dwellings, itself unshackled in its course, — an em- 
blem of that freedom which is the heritage of man, 
— as it were, calling upon them to assert it here, 
or seek it in other climes. How changed is Rome 
of the present day in this respect as well as in 
others ! The city of universal empire granted 
free toleration to the religions of other nations, 
and even admitted the objects of their worship 
to the Pantheon; reckoning it the same great 
Spirit difliised through all things, and reigning 
through all time. But modern Rome, domineer- 
ing and despotic, hesitates to afford the common 
conveniences of life to that very people who for 
countless ages held the unity of the Godhead 



248 



THE JEWS- 



uncorrupted and inviolate, antiid surrounding igno- 
rance — the asserters of religion when it was else- 
where but a name, and the parents of their own. 
They enjoy personal liberty in but a small degree, 
and no municipal privileges. These things the 
Jews bear with patience, following in their fathers'* 
steps, waiting with a firmness of faith, which nei- 
ther persecution, nor coldness, nor cruelty can shake, 
when Providence shall have fulfilled the times, 
and overcome the difficulties which stand in the 
way, for them to enter the promised land, where 
rest the bones of Jacob and Joseph, and whither 
their hopes centre, and their afiections tend, as 
to an earthly paradise. 



ORDINATION. 



249 



CHAPTER XV. 

ORDINATION AT ST. JOHN LATERAN'S. CEREMONIES. — FESTA Dl 

ST. GIUSEPPE. — LIVES OP THE APOSTLES. — FIGURES AND FRES- 
COES. — CHURCH AT LUCCA.^ — COSTUME. — PICTURE EXPRESSIVE 
OF THE POWER OF THE VIRGIN. 

The ceremonies which take place at St. Peter's 
on Easter Sunday are continued, but the scenes 
are shifted to St. John Lateran's. The early part 
of the morning is devoted to the charitable office 
of the baptism of heretics. Sometimes a Jew is 
found wilhng to embrace the Roman Cathohc 
religion, or perhaps some foreigner, when at the 
hands of the bishop he receives the sacrament. 
No heretic, however, was to be found upon the 
morning I attended, to the great disappointment 
of many spectators, as well as myself; but high 
mass was celebrated with all the pomp and splen- 
dour with which it is usually accompanied in one 
of the Roman basiUcas. At its conclusion the 
largest ordination of the year always takes place. 
The candidates were very numerous, amounting 

M 5 



250 



ORDINATION AT 



to more than a hundred. They were not confined 
to natives, but the various countries in communion 
with Rome sent some of their representatives. 

The part of the church where this ceremony, or 
sacramentj takes place, is the oratory to the right, 
where the cathedral service is usually chaunted. 
There the candidates were seated, looking as 
pious and orderly as the occasion seemed to re- 
quire. The regular and secular clergy were min- 
gled ; some with the crown " shaven and bare,*' 
and others with nature's head-dress unmutilated. 
They wore simple surplices only : the investiture 
of more sumptuous vestments is reserved for a 
further period of the ceremony. 

One cardinal bishop only attended. He wore 
his mitre, and was seated in the chancel as he 
administered the rite. Several priests stood by 
his side, who also placed their hands on the pos- 
tulant's head, when he meekly knelt for admission 
as one of the shepherds of the Church. 

Perhaps the sitting posture in the bishop is 
more significant, as tending to represent that au- 
thority with which he is invested ; although there 
is no lack of means to declare this to both clergy 
and laity, in the church of which the Pope is the 
supreme head. The form of words that was pro- 



ST. JOHN LATERAN'S. 



251 



nounced was very brief, but was repeated over 
each candidate. On two several occasions he 
approached his Eminence: at the first, the vest- 
ment which is indorsed with the cross was placed 
upon his shoulders. He then retired to his place, 
evidently fully impressed with the responsibilities 
of the station which he had assumed. Subse- 
quently he again appeared in the chancel, where 
he presented the palm of his right hand to the 
bishop, who then poured some of the sacred 
chrism from the anointing cup into it. The at- 
tending priest, his chaplain probably, immediately 
placed the other hand over it, and taking a small 
white napkin from a bundle that was provided 
near him, he tied them both together : with this 
handcuff the young priest retires again to the 
seat he had occupied in the oratory. He con- 
tinues in this posture for hours, until, I suppose, 
the chrism has worked its expected effect, or till 
it has been absorbed by the animal heat. 

I should not have been surprised if the bishop 
had anointed candidates upon the head, which 
was the ancient and usual method ; but I am at 
a loss to discover the intention of anointing the 
hand. Perhaps it was a hint taken from the 
school of the gladiators, who oiled their arms, 



252 



ORDINATION AT 



hands, &C.5 that their bodies might be more pliant 
for the struggle, and that they might slip more 
easily from the grasp of their opponents. So this 
would signify that he should be prepared for con- 
troversy — ready to grapple with any adversary who 
might hurl a "negative" in the clerical arena; and 
then it would contain a hint that, if hard pressed, 
he could retire, as there would be no danger of 
his antagonist being able to hold him in his grasp. 

No doubt the act may be significant, and this, 
or some such conjecture, may explain it. Per- 
haps it is done, founded upon the well-known 
fact, that, as oil cast upon troubled waters soon 
reduces them to a quiescent state, so they should 
regard their ministry in the same light, checking 
schism in the Church, as well as quelling tumult 
in the state. If this be the true interpretation, 
it were well for the sister country if many of her 
priests were ordained at Rome. As to schism, 
it probably does not exist to give them any un- 
easiness; but political movement, and the evils 
following in its train, would fall still-born but 
for the decided part taken by the Maynooth priest. 

But I am inclined to believe the real cause of 
this rite is to impart a sanctity to the hands 
which are to hold the host in consecration. Such 



ST. JOHN LATERAN'S. 



253 



an opinion might follow from the belief in tran- 
substantiation. It were well adapted to impress 
upon the young priest the idea of his own im- 
portance, as the act itself he is destined to perform 
raises him in the estimation of the people. That 
the host is of so sacred a nature, that he should 
not venture to touch it with common hands ; but 
it requires the blessing of the bishop, in addition 
to the ordination and the chrism of the Church, 
to adapt them for the high duty : so much amongst 
Roman Catholics is religion reduced to externals. 
The ceremonies — the mass— all speak in the same 
language. To have a true spiritual church, it 
were better to receive the Saviour in the heart 
than in the hand, and to anoint with heavenly 
influences the former rather than the latter. The 
heart is the test in all things. In the dealings 
of hfe, in the intercourse of society, if that is 
not steady and sincere, all is hollow and deceit- 
ful, although it be wrapped in specious pretexts. 
Devotion is the heart of religion, shewing itself 
in pure doctrine and conduct, and pulsates as 
strong and as warmly, although the body that 
meets the eye be in modest garments, and without 
the aid of ornament. 

On the 19th of March, the festival of St. Joseph 



254 FESTA DI SAN GIUSEPPE. 



is kept in some of the churches. There is no- 
thing remarkable in the services of the day to 
distinguish it from any other anniversary, but va- 
rious preparations are made for it in the streets 
and squares of the city. Booths, or, I should 
rather call them, sylvan huts, are hastily erected, 
composed of a few poles driven into the earth, 
covered tastefully with evergreens. Stripes of 
ribbon or calico are interspersed, so that the sim« 
pie edifice shews some indications of the taste 
diffused through the people. It thus forms a shop 
in the open air. The viands exposed for sale 
are fish — a species of sprat found plentifully in 
the Tiber. They are fried in lard. A charcoal 
fire is kept burning, on which the grease and 
fish are constantly bubbling. These the people 
purchase in great quantities, and eat with avidity. 
I should esteem it in some degree a religious 
duty or custom to do so, and not alone to satisfy 
the cravings of appetite. The groups eating this 
homely fare — the Italian cook — and the hut of 
green boughs, form an object quite picturesque, 
and would have been a morceau for the pencil 
of a Teniers or an Ostade. The scene contrasted 
well with the buildings in the neighbourhood. It 
was in some degree the " rus in urbeJ^ 



ST. JOSEPH. 255 

The victuallers' shops (this appellation applies at 
Rome principally to the venders of pork and sau- 
sages) are also dressed for the occasion. The 
verdant leaves of the box or of the evergreen oak, 
hanging amidst candles, butter, and salt fish, as if 
they were the fruits, testify that the festival is duly 
honoured. It is not improbable that of all the 
festivals of the Church this is the most welcome to 
these useful citizens, as they seem to do tenfold 
more business on it and the following days than at 
any other period. The poor artisan, who on other 
occasions rarely exceeds the wretched " vino as- 
ciouto'^ and ^^pane /zero," makes shift at this time to 
add fish, salt or fresh, to his fare. While the more 
comfortable housewife is to be met ever hurrying 
home from market with her scaly prize. 

From what I have mentioned I think it is con- 
clusive that St. Joseph must have been a fisher- 
man, and that the universal custom of eating fish 
on this day is to commemorate his early occupa- 
tion. The husband of Mary was a carpenter, it 
would not therefore seem that he was the object of 
their regard. The Roman calendar is very exten- 
sive, and saints of the same name occur more than 
once. Or, further, it may be an opinion founded 
upon tradition, that some period of St. Joseph's 



256 LIVES OF THE APOSTLES. 

life was, like many of the apostles, dedicated 
to the simple and meditative life of a fisherman. 

It is a curious fact, that so many of the apostles, 
out of the small number of twelve, should have 
been engaged in this occupation. But, probably, of 
all the employments which engage mankind, there 
is in it least room for any of those passions 
which are likely to disturb the equanimity of the 
mind. With the humble fisherman envy has no 
place. The possessions or power of others he nei- 
ther covets nor regards. None of those ambitious 
motives which, more or less, influence most minds, 
have any place in his bosom. He is bred up to 
patient endurance, and looks to the will of Provi- 
dence to give its blessings into his hands. The 
state of life is daily shadowed before him ; disap- 
pointment often falls to his lot, and hopeful pros- 
pects remain unfulfilled. Thus his spirit is sub- 
dued within him, and reconciled to the similar 
events of life. 

Nature also exhibits to his mind objects of inter- 
est and beauty — the calm ocean, the sunbeams 
gilding its surface, or the moon rising in glory from 
its depths, clothing the landscape with its softer 
light. These are apt to excite reflections in his 
mind calculated to soothe the asperities within, and 



FIGURES AND FRESCOES. 257 



to divert the passions from the sway which they 
assume, to contemplation of the benefits of cre- 
ation^ and of the beneficent hand of which they 
all bear the undoubted impress. The water also, 
gliding away before his eyes with unceasing flow, 
would seem to be a type of his existence, never 
tarrying in its progress, but hastening till its 
waters are lost in the boundless ocean ; while the 
v/ave that ripples at his feet, now proudly raised 
with its crest of foam, and the next moment broken 
and scattered on the shore, not inaptly figures the 
vanity of human hopes, and the issue to which they 
lead. This mode of life is full of instruction, 
while it is free from those temptations which, like 
parasites, are indissolubly connected with the vari- 
ous arts or callings of men. These may probably 
be some of the reasons, if we may venture to as- 
cribe any, why the Saviour, turning from all other 
ranks of men, chose his companions out of this 
humble and unnoticed class. 

The statues in some of the churches in 
Rome, more particularly in those a little re- 
moved from the walls, are by no means of high 
finish. The efforts of the best artists have been 
enlisted for the purpose of adorning the metro- 
politan churches ; but we occasionally find some 



258 



FIGURES AT LUCCA. 



figures within the sacred precincts which would 
accord better with the air of the Appenines or an 
unfrequented village. There is a wooden figure of 
some saint in the church of St. Paul's on the Via 
Ostia, which, from its dilapidated state, cannot, in 
my opinion, be any aid to devotion. Whether the 
disease that has attacked it is time or dry rot, it 
has lost much of its resemblance to the human 
face. The nose has nearly disappeared, the fingers 
are worn away, and the figure itself has lost some 
feet of its height. But perhaps it is esteemed 
more venerable from its years, for it occupies its 
niche as usual, and probably will do so while it 
holds together. 

I could mention many others, but at present 
will take the reader for a few moments to Lucca, 
to observe something of the same nature. 

Superstition seems to flourish at Lucca with as 
strong a growth as in any other part of the Italian 
continent, and ignorance to prevail to an extent 
perhaps unequalled in the country districts of 
Rome or Naples. The Virgin is peculiarly the 
object of adoration, and but few of the saints seem 
to share the honours of the people with her. As 
usual, the churches contain everything of interest 
or importance. In an extensive church, situated 



COSTUME. 



259 



near the palace, which is the parish church of the 
Gran Duca^ there are, as you enter, two small 
apartments, one on each hand; in both of which 
are figures well carved, of wood, and painted, 
representing something from the Scripture history. 
To the left is a representation of the Cruci- 
fixion. On the right is the Virgin clothed in a 
dress of great magnificence, with " il hambino 
Gesu^' upon her knee, and St. Joseph kneeling in a 
posture of adoration, and presenting both his arms 
to the infant Saviour. These figures are as large 
as life, and, though very old, as carvings, may rank 
the first of the second-rate. Nothing can be more 
extraordinary than the dress of all the three. The 
Virgin wears a gilt crown upon her head, and is 
elaborately adorned with necklace and rings. Her 
stomacher is gilt, and gold appears occasionally in 
various parts of her attire, which is evidently of the 
highest fashion of the time. The front of her dress 
ends in a peak like some of the present day, and 
the gown is ample and flowing. But the most 
striking part is a frill upon her neck, very stiff" and 
projecting, reminding one strongly of the portrait 
of our own royal EUzabeth. 

Joseph is dressed also in the fashion of the day, 
and, but for the absence of the wig, would be a 



260 



COSTUME. 



complete gentleman of the court of Charles II. 
His coat is of grey cloth, and buttoned up to the 
chin, and is of that shape that we denominate 
a frock. He wears also an enormous frill, and 
has fringes of lace at his arms. Knee-breeches, 
stockings, and a pair of high-heeled shoes, with 
silver buckles, complete the portrait of Santo 
Giuseppe, according to the taste of the monk 
milliners of the Luccan church. 

The present instance shews us how erroneous it 
is, in pictures or representations of this nature, to 
disregard the history and costume of the period 
that belong to the subjects, and to arrange them 
in the uncertain dress of the painters' times. If 
this rule is not adhered to, unity is lost, and what 
the pieces probably acquire in positive art, they 
forfeit by these extraneous additions. The more 
simple, and according with truth and taste, is the 
drapery of pictures, so much the less chance has it 
of being considered anomalous amid the necessary 
changes of time and things. The absurdity is suf- 
ficiently obvious, of arraying a personage belong- 
ing to a past age in the fashions of our own. Our 
own lives are frequently long enough to see them 
changed and forgotten ; and the more we advance 
from the date of the work, the more irrecon- 



FRESCOES. 



261 



cileable is the difference. If a statuary of the 
middle ages had left us an Augustus, or an Apollo, 
with a full-bottomed wig and knee-breeches, we 
moderns should not admire either his judgment or 
discrimination. The costume of the present day, 
perhaps, does not well accord with the dignity of a 
statue, but, I think, chiefly from this reason, that it 
will probably outhve the period when that costume 
shall have declined. More suitable is the simple 
toga of the Romans. It has precedent, beauty, 
and our associations in its favour. 

Several of the churches and monasteries at 
Rome have their walls covered with fresco paint- 
ing. In the majority of cases they are well exe- 
cuted, and will repay the trouble of examining 
them. But in some quarters of the city we find 
the Virgin painted at the corners of the streets; 
and in other localities some religious subject 
traced upon the walls, to remind the wayfarer of 
the future and its objects. Near the Piazza SS. 
Apostoli you will find a fresco of purgatory. The 
flames are burning fiercely, and several persons are 
expiating their sins in its torturing pains. They 
are tossed on a sea of fire, and its lurid light makes 
them appear unearthly, and miserable in the ex- 
treme. I, however, saw a picture elsewhere, more 



262 



PICTURE AT THE 



remarkable than any to be found in the Eternal 
City, which deserves some notice here. 

Leaving the square at Lucca, which contains 
the cathedral, built with alternate pieces of black 
and white marble, I entered a long and narrow 
street, and when I had traversed it for about half 
a mile, I suddenly came upon the ancient and 
massive church of San Martino.* The church 
was undergoing some repairs, so I did not see it 
to the advantage that I could have wished. It 
contains some pictures by the old masters, several 
altars as usual, and a few monuments. But the 
object that struck me most, and deeply arrested 
my attention, was a fresco painting on the west 
end, and on the outside. It so completely repre- 
sents the effect and intention of the Roman 
Catholic religion, that I cannot forbear detailing 
it minutely here. 

The Virgin is represented inflicting corporal 
punishment upon the youthful Jesus. She holds 
a rod in her hand, with the other she holds the 
garments of the child. She is in the act of in- 
flicting punishment. The child is in alarm, and 
its eyes are eagerly directed to St Anna, the 

* I am not certain whether this is the saint to whom the structure 
is dedicated. 



CHURCH OF SAN MARTINO. 263 



mother of the Virgin, in the background, entreat- 
ing her intercession to escape the cruel ordeal. 
The look of the Virgin is not that of affection, but 
has the stern and harsh appearance which we 
might imagine a schoolmistress to have when en- 
gaged in a similar occupation. Under the picture 
is written in very legible characters, " Jure matris 
rege filior 

This picture is better executed than those which 
are generally to be found at the corners of the 
streets, or on the outside of the churches. It is 
the most remarkable, and in its subject one of the 
most daring, that I have seen, and contains within 
its compass much of the spirit that is infused into 
the Roman Catholic church. Considering that the 
Saviour came into the world, and was born of a 
virgin, — that he took the nature of man upon him, 
— they infer that he was not only subject to the 
infirmities of that nature, but with its sorrows was 
liable also to its sins. The book of the Scripture 
was either closed, or told a tale to unwilling ears, 
that he was holy, harmless, undefiled, and sepa- 
rate from sinners ; " and, of course, as he was free 
from the sins of human nature, he must have been 
also from the punishments with which earthly pa- 
rents visit the violation of duty. We are told, 



26-i AUTHORITY OF THE VIRGIN. 



indeed, that he was subject unto them,*' and 
continued with them ; but we hear from the same 
unerring authority, that his hfe was as spotless and 
perfect even then, as his source was undeniably 
holy and divine, for he daily increased in wisdom, 
and in favour with God and man." But revelation 
was to be set aside, and reverence \iolated, to 
serve an object : and so we find the Virgin Mary 
here exalted at the expense of the Saviour. The 
awful reverence with which God dwelling in the 
flesh should be contemplated is here transferred 
altogether to another object. The argument which 
the representation is designed to inculcate, and 
the feeling they wished to produce on the mind of 
the beholder, was, that as mother she possessed 
more power than the Son (He, by whom all things 
were made), and so, more than Him, was entitled 
to the regard, fear, homage, and worship of the 
Christian world. 

The eflPect of such subjects in painting, and ex- 
hortations of the same nature from the pulpit, are 
very evident. The addresses to the Virgin equal, 
if not exceed, those to the Almighty. Their affec- 
tions are constantly directed to her by pictures 
and emblems in the churches, the streets, and 
their houses. A seaman caught in one of the 



AUTHORITY OF THE VIRGIN. 265 



white squalls of the Mediterranean, and hurried at 
the will of the wind, considers his spiritual exer- 
cises completed when he has devoutly recom- 
mended himself to the care of the Virgin. When he 
relinquishes the helm in alarm, his calls are upon 
" la madre di Dio;^^ and if he is permitted to out- 
live the fury of the tempest, and to revisit his 
native valley, or the town where he first drew 
breath, his first care is to discharge his vow to his 
patron, whether it consist of tapers, a gratuity to 
the clergy, or a picture representing his disaster 
and escape. 



N 



266 



THE COLOSSEUM; 



CHAPTER XVI. 

THE COLOSSEUM. — ITS EXTENT. — IS CONSECRATED. — ILLUMINATION 
OP ST. PETER'S. 

Of all the ruins to be found in Rome, the most 
stupendous is the Colosseum. The mind is pre- 
pared for no such spectacle as these rich remains 
aflford. Wonder and admiration at the mighty 
genius which could devise so noble a plan, and 
complete it in a manner so as to outlive the wreck 
of the city and the empire, are the spontaneous 
feelings of every beholder. The area occupies the 
space of nearly six acres — so much does it exceed 
the amphitheatres yet remaining in other Italian 
cities. The shape is an oval ; the greatest 
length is 620 feet, the greatest breadth 513 feet. 
It is built in several tiers of arches, each diminish- 
ing in size. The stories were four, each orna- 
mented with a different order of architecture. The 
lower arches formed the places for admission, and 
communicated with the galleries which led to the 
various seats, set apart for senators, patricians. 



ITS MUTILATION. 



267 



or plebeians. It had no roof, but an awning was 
drawn over in unfavourable weather. 

From its being built with exceeding care, and 
with stones of great magnitude, it is well calculated 
to resist the effects of time; accordingly, its chief in- 
jury hasnot come from thence. The Vandal and the 
Goth seem also to have spared it ; and it contained 
nothing which would be likely to excite the fury or 
fanaticism of the iconoclast. Its mutilation is to 
be ascribed only to the inhabitants themselves. 
This surpassing structure, the " monumentum cere 
perennius " of the architects of old, was reckoned as 
a common quarry where Popes and princes might 
find materials for their churches and palaces. The 
Barberini palace,^ an extensive pile, is altogether 
built with materials procured from this source, as 
is also the Farnese. 

It was that dark age and those times of igno- 
rance when taste slumbered, and that narrow spirit 
was abroad which esteemed it meritorious to sink 
all the records of other days in the glory of the 
Church. The triumph of the latter in their judg- 
ment was complete, when the pillars of the temple 
of Jupiter Stator adorned the interior, and the 
arches of the Colosseum strengthened the walls, of a 

* This has given rise to the caustic expression — 

" Quod non fecerunt barbari, fecerunt Barberini." 

N 2 



268 



THE COLOSSEUM. 



church of St. Peter or St. John. It is this spirit 
that has anticipated the work of time, or rendered 
its operations more complete. These may be found 
to be the reasons why in such a city as Rome — 
which Augustus left of marble — so few striking re- 
mains, temples, or monuments are to be found at the 
present day. It was not the workmanship that was 
inferior or the material perishable, for the moderns 
do not either build so well or so durably. The bricks 
in Nero's house, and in some parts of the great 
sewers that pass under the city, seem in as good 
preservation as if they had been but lately laid. 
Their buildings were like their fame — for all time; 
and the former had come down in all the freshness 
of the latter, but for the Bceotic taste of the prince- 
bishops of Rome. 

At length a Pope was found occupying the chair 
of St. Peter's, but unfortunately for art in very 
modern times, with a mind somewhat more en- 
larged than that of his predecessors. The Colos- 
seum was consecrated by Benedict XIV.,* as the 
most effectual means to preserve it from further 
injury. Interest, probably, as well as a regard for 
the beautiful in art, induced him to put a stop to 

* This took place about the year 1 750. It was placed under the 
protection of the martyrs, who had there proved the sincerity of their 
belief by the testimony of thek blood. 



THE COLOSSEUM. 



269 



the practice I have alluded to. By this means 
almost one half of the amphitheatre has been 
brought down to us in a tolerable state of pre- 
servation. The succeeding Popes have repaired 
the breaches made by accident or design, and the 
attention of the government is directed to its pre- 
servation with as much ardour as former Papal 
cabinets shewed in its destruction. 

Although the fabric is so massive, from its being 
constructed in a circle of arches, it looks light 
and elegant. The height in that part which yet 
remains entire is very great — 157 feet. Some 
evergreens and rock plants have struck their roots 
among the stones, or twine their branches over the 
few seats that are left, adding rather than taking 
from the beauty of the ruin. The Colosseum 
looks to particular advantage by the brilliant moon- 
light. As it flows through the arches, the shadows 
are cast upon the ground or the opposite wall,^ 
forming an unrivalled network. The still hour is 
in keeping with the scene ; and the lamp of night, 
the most fitting guide to the building, whose glory, 
like that of the triumphal arches surrounding it, is 
on the decline.* 

* " The moonbeams shine 

As 't were its na+ural torches ; for divine 



270 



THE COLOSSEUM. 



Three crosses are now erected in the middle of 
the arena, representing the events of the Crucifixion. 
The Colosseum, as I mentioned above, has been 
consecrated, and vespers are said in it occasionally. 
The main object of this coup de main was to pre- 
serve it, as it would be now as great a sin against 
the Church as it formerly was against taste, to 
plunder a single stone. I bent my footsteps, one 
evening, to gaze on this record of the imperial days, 
as the red rays of the setting sun were imparting 
their warm glow to the western landscape. Its 
parting light still lingered upon the loftiest wall, 
when a party of Franciscans entered, and pro- 
ceeding to the cross, chaunted the service of the 
Church. Every one in the building was upon 
his knees ; all was silent as the surrounding 

Should be the light which streams here, to illume 
This long explored but still exhaustless mine 
Of contemplation. — 

It will not bear the brightness of the day ; 

But when the rising moon begins to climb 

Its topmost arch, and gently pauses there, — 

When the stars twinkle through th^ loops of time, 

And the low night breeze waves along the air, 

The garland forest which the grey walls wear. 

Like laurels on the bald first Caesar's head, — 

When the light shines serene but doth not glare, — 

Then in this magic circle raise the dead. 

Heroes have trod this spot — 'tis on their dust ye tread." 

Byron. 



SERVICE OF MONKS. 



271 



ruins, save the voice of the priest uplifted in 
prayer. While the evening cast its shades around, 
and the light slowly departed, it seemed like a 
temple that barbarism had stripped and profaned, 
while the priest, befriended by the coming night, 
stole hither to celebrate within the sacred precincts 
the service of his god. 

What changes come over human things ! How 
altered by the inroads of time and the force of 
circumstances are various objects ; applied to pur- 
poses as foreign from the design of the founders as 
anything human may be. Vespasian erected this 
massive pile as an arena for the trial of strength, 
where the contest of the gladiators, the stake being 
victory or life, might be viewed by the assembled 
populace of Rome. There the lion from the forests 
of Africa was enlarged to contend with the monarch 
of the creation, to pander to the public taste. The 
times of succeeding emperors saw the Christian 
take his stand in this bloody field, driven to mar- 
tyrdom in a useless struggle against brutal strength. 
Thousands, who had espoused the cause of the 
great Regenerator of mankind, sealed their testi- 
mony by " the last ebbing drops " of life in the 
unequal encounter on the very spot before us, 
or were compelled to uplift their hands in the 



272 



THE COLOSSEUM. 



combat which they had foresworn, in defiance of 
that creed of universal love, by the power of their 
heartless persecutors. The arena of the Colosseum, 
now as fair as the sand washed by the sea wave, was 
for years the ensanguined plain of Christian martyr- 
dom; it was the red grave to thousands, who, in the 
early ages of the Church, bore with firmness and un- 
shrinking fortitude the terrible ordeal, sustained by 
the hope of the happiness and reward that were in 
reserve. But now how complete is the triumph of 
the cross ! It is uplifted above this field of blood, 
and the heart's sacrifice is frequently poured to 
Him, whose majesty was once insulted in the same 
place by the slaughter of his foUowerSc The 
struggle against truth has been fruitless, and the 
descendants of those citizens of Rome number 
themselves among its proudest assertors now. Man 
may seem to have the upper hand for a while, but 
God always rules in the end. 

What a contrast there is now over these dark 
and deserted walls. The shout of the mob, the 
yell of gratification resounds no more ; nor is the 
air riven by the cry of agony, or the last shriek of 
despair, to be drowned again by the tumultuous voice 
of the barbaric thousands,* who deemed their city 

* The wounded combatant dropped his weapon, and advancing to 



THE COLOSSEUM. 



273 



the centre of civilisation, and themselves the ar- 
biters of mankind. Now all is silent, as still and 
as lifeless as the tomb — the air barely moved by 
the evening zephyr^ as if Nature held her breath as 
she trod the memorable scene. The bells of some 
religious house only break the spell, as they fall 
upon the ear, mellowed by the distance. The 
arena is empty, the gladiators are gone, no longer 
taken from their "Dacian home"'' "to make a Roman 
holiday" — serving no purpose now but a memorial 
of cruelty and crime.* The benches are deserted, 

the edge of the arena, supplicated the spectators. If he had fought 
well, the people saved him ; if otherwise, or as they happened to be 
inclined, they turned down their thumbs, and he was slain. They 
were occasionally so savage, that they were impatient if a combat 
lasted longer than ordinary without wounds or death. — Note 61 to 
canto IV., Childe Harold, 

* How well Milton depicts the Roman character in these lines: — 

" That people victor once, now vile and base. 
Deservedly made vassal ; who once just, 
Frugal, and mild, and temp 'rate, conquer 'd well. 
But governed ill the nations under yoke, 
Peeling their provinces, exhausted all 
By lust and rapine ; first ambitious grown 
Of triumph, that insulting vanity ; 
Then cruel, by their sports to blood inured 
Of fighting beasts, and men to beasts exposed ; 
Luxurious by their wealth, and greedier still, 
And from the daily scene effeminate." 

Paradise Regained^ book iv. 

N 5 



274 



THE COLOSSEUM. 



which were so often crowded by imperial and patri- 
cian guests. The seats used by the common 
people are broken by time, or tenanted by coarse 
weeds, and the green branches of the willow and 
the box. They are the haunts of the bat and the 
owl, ever housing amid decay and desolation. As 
the moon slowly asserts her reign over the heavens, 
casting her mild beams on the temples of the 
Forum, with all the softness of a fostering hand, 
as if it sympathised with the ruin, whose records 
are strewn like autumnal leaves in that celebrated 
spot, it enters the arches of the solitary pile, and 
appears to linger in its course, as it adds to the 
beauty and sublimity of the scene. 

The Colosseum has looked upon the changes 
of eighteen centuries. It has outlived its use, and 
descended to our times as a mark only to discern 
the past. Kindlier influences have had their 
effects upon the rugged passions of men. Amuse- 
ment is no longer gathered from blood, nor asso- 
ciated with slaughter and tears. That pile has wit- 
nessed a more enlightened age, and objects and 
instruments of truer gratification disseminated 
abroad. The press has scattered knowledge upon 
every wind, yet scarcely with suflBcient celerity to 
answer the thirst with which it is received. For 



THE COLOSSEUM. 



275 



the eyes was the feast provided then : now it is the 
mind that is the spectator, and the heart the 
handmaid. It was sensual then, it is intellectual 
now. The spirit of benevolence has become univer- 
sal ; and while the Supreme Being is recognised 
and served, the inhabitants of distant and different 
climes look upon each other as united by the ties 
of brotherhood and blood. The wings of commerce 
have united them to each other ; not sailing be- 
yond the sea for a freight of slaves, but introducing 
the blessings of civihsation in its course. 

When the Colosseum was founded, the value of 
time was not known ; it is now only that it is appre- 
ciated and felt. There all classes might lounge and 
idle hour after hour, and acquire no knowledge 
capable of softening or improving the heart. They 
might become more resolute or more brave, but it 
is by no means certain that they became better or 
more virtuous citizens. But now the distribution 
of time has become a duty. To squander it heed- 
lessly entails certain loss. If knowledge is power, 
so time, happily applied, is the gymnasium where 
it is acquired. Men in the present day give their 
leisure hours to health, the rest to the business 
and duties of life. 

A grand illumination of St. Peter's takes place 



276 



ILLUMINATION OF 



upon the evening of every Easter Day. Prepara- 
tions on an extensive scale are made for it, and no 
expense is spared. It is really a magnificent spec- 
tacle, of which no idea can be formed from what 
we are accustomed to consider an illumination. 
No lights are placed in windows with undeviating 
uniformity, but even in this the Italian taste, always 
sustaining its character, has found matter for the 
display of originality and genius. 

Thousands of lamps are prepared, and placed 
upon every detail of the unrivalled church. They 
are placed upon the loffy Corinthian columns, and 
skilfully applied to the capitals. The facade re- 
ceives them in rich profusion. They are elegantly 
stretched upon the roof. The vast dimensions of 
the dome are covered ; the ball above it has them 
in circles ; and the cross, elevated in mid air, seen 
from the Sabine to the Etrurian hills, has attached 
to it a suitable number. The gigantic colonnades 
stretched on either side of the piazza possess them 
in long and regular lines. All this preparation is 
made for some days previous to Easter. It is a bu- 
siness attended with the greatest danger to those 
employed, from the great height of parts of the 
building to which they must ascend. So perilous 
is it, that the custom is always observed to admi- 



ST. Peter's. 



277 



nister the sacrament to the men before they 
ascend. Accidents do sometimes occur, but, from 
the caution generally taken, they are now much 
guarded against. 

As the shades of evening begin to creep over 
the sky, and the vault above to assume its sable 
garb, these countless lamps are lighted simultane- 
ously. With all the speed of the lightning's flash 
they suddenly glitter before the eye, that is 
equally surprised and delighted with the novel 
scene. It looks like a new creation, whose instan- 
taneous birth it has witnessed. St. Peter's, in its 
immense extent, is one blaze of light, the perfect 
outline, traced in fire, standing out against the 
dark night. Streams of light are encircling the 
dome^ giving a perfect idea of its shape and size. 
The ball stands forth in bold relief ; and above all, 
the emblem of Christianity glitters as if it were 
studded with diamonds of matchless lustre, or as 
if the stars had descended from their courses to do 
it homage ; from its exalted position reminding one 
of the cross that is said to have appeared to Con- 
stantino in the sky, accompanied with the words 
'Ev TovToj vifca. The brilliant light falling from 
the lamps upon the two exquisite fountains, which 
eject into the air so large a volume of water, gives 



278 



ILLUMINATION OF 



a hundred different tints to the descending spray ; 
the strugghng foam appearing white as snow, while 
a soft, but subdued melody falls upon the ear. 

The surrounding gloom, made more apparent by 
the swift advance of night, throws the figure of the 
church out in all its beautiful proportions, con- 
vincing us, probably, more strongly than any day- 
view, of the great height and extent of the build- 
ing. The efifect is diflFerent at various distances. 
It is truly splendid as viewed from the piazza, the 
whole neighbourhood lighted as if by the evening 
sun. As you retire to the bridge of St. Angelo, or 
to the more remote parts of the city, glimpses 
of the temple are obtained full of grandeur and 
loveliness. From the Pincian hill, Vv^hich is raised 
like a wall to the east of the city, it looks like a 
palace of stars, far more beautiful than all the 
imaginings of poets or dreams of romance. It is 
the personification of ideal beauty, an object which 
the mind can look at with pleasure, and feel its 
thoughts borne away to realms of spirits, leaving 
the earth with its sombre hues and shadows far 
behind. The calm night of Italy, with the balmy 
air barely fanned by the wind that has careered 
through the waste of the Campagna, and just 
enough starlight to point out the bold outline of 



ST. PETER'S. 



279 



some ruin still battling with time, are in unison 
with the feelings, as we gaze with silent attention 
across the crowded city and the murmuring Tiber 
to the sacred mount of the Vatican. To the 
waking sense it is like a dream, where fancy has 
been the architect ; but the " baseless fabric is 
touched with a pencil of light, and finished by 
undoubted reality. The scene is so new and un- 
expected, that it leaves its luminous outlines as 
strongly printed on the memory, as the figure of 
St. Peter's itself is on the gloomy sky. With me, 
at least, it is one of the last objects that it will re- 
tain, being still one of those prominent spots that 
will remain developed when the other impressions 
of a southern clime will have altogether declined. 

It is saidj and I believe truly, that the illumina- 
tion takes place principally to gratify English eyes. 
This, with the many other interesting sights, draws 
a large concourse of strangers to Rome, who leave 
a considerable sum of money behind them. It be- 
comes a matter of some difficulty at this season to 
procure lodgings or accommodation at the hotels, 
and I have seen more than one family passing the 
entire day in the carriage, as it rested, loaded with 
baggage and mud, in the Piazza di Spagna. On 
Easter evening, when the lighting takes place, the 



280 



ILLUMINATION OF 



large space in front of St. Peter's is completely 
filled by equipages, waiting for the torch to be 
applied. Pedestrians run some risk of being run 
over in the narrow streets, for they rarely have the 
protection of footways or the advantage of lamps. 
The Pincian hill, which is on a different side of 
the river from St. Peter's, and nearly two miles 
from it, is also crowded, and mostly by our country- 
men and women. From this spot the colonnades 
are lost, and the church looks diminished some- 
what in size, but the view is otherwise very perfect 
— presenting not an absolute blaze of light, but 
tracing with wonderful accuracy, by the just dispo- 
sition of the lamps, the various parts of the building. 

The illumination continues during the greater 
part of the night, which, as it advances to the 
midnight hour, rather adds to the effect by the 
deeper gloom of the sky. Although the lamps are 
countless, no accident occurs. They do not take 
fire; and so skilful are those employed at this work, 
that St. Peter's never sustains any injury. The 
practice certainly endangers the edifice ; and when 
it is considered what time it took in building, and 
the vast sums that have been expended upon the 
work, as well as the natural pride with which it is 
looked upon by all classes, it is matter for surprise 



ST. PETER'S. 



281 



that the Government should not altogether avoid 
the destructive element. But, no doubt, the plan 
pursued is the very best that could be devised 
under the circumstances; and everything is pre- 
pared of course for such a contingency. However, 
St. Peter's is constructed so admirably, the walls 
are so thick, and the roof so solid, that the hazard 
of danger from fire, either from within or without, 
is not great. Wood enters but in a very small 
degree into its construction, not even the doors 
being of that material, but of bronze. 



282 CASTLE OF ST. ANGELO. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

CASTLE OF ST. ANGELO. — IL GIRANDOLA. — OBJECT OF PUBLIC 
REPRESENTATIONS. — THE CARNIVAL. 

Upon the following evening the fire-works 
which are displayed from the Mole of Adrian'^ 
take place. II Girandola is a great favourite 
with the Roman populace. The windows in the 
houses of the neighbourhood fetch high prices for 
the evening in question ; and the streets leading 
to the bridge of St. Angelo, from which the most 
complete view is obtained, are rendered almost 
impassable by the crowd. The mausoleum of 
Adrian is an immense circular building, and was 
erected at the period when the Romans had im- 

* In a dark period of five hundred years Rome was perpetually 
afflicted by the sanguinary quarrels of the nobles and people — the 
Guelphs and Ghibellines, the Colonna and Ursini. To this mischie- 
vous purpose (of defence) the remains of antiquity were most readily 
adapted. With some slight alterations, a theatre, an amphitheatre, a 
mausoleum, was transferred into a strong and spacious citadel. I need 
not repeat that the Mole of Adrian has assumed the title and form of 
the castle of St. Angelo. — Gibbon's Decline and Fall^ vol. iv. p. 445. 



IL GIRANDOLA. 



283 



bibed the spirit of Egyptian architecture. The 
Popes have repaired and converted it to some use. 
It is now the castle of St. Angelo, communicating 
by a covered passage with the Vatican, by which 
his Holiness can make a speedy retreat in case of 
danger. Its situation is upon a gentle eminence, 
placed opposite the bridge to which it gives its 
name, and completely commanding the pass of the 
river. A few cannon are turned towards the city, 
to awe the inhabitants, should they be disposed 
to become hostile or to be weary of Papal govern- 
ment. It contains a guard of soldiers, and is the 
place where the Papal standard floats in the air 
upon the days which redound to the honour of the 
States of the Church. 

The erection of these fire-works is very expen- 
sive. They are formed in various patterns on the 
exterior of the castle. Rockets of every colour, 
and almost without number, are prepared. At ten 
o'clock at night the display commences, when the 
works, wheels, &c. on the castle-walls are ignited. 
They are on so grand a scale, covering such an 
extensive surface, that they are really beautiful 
objects. At some distance they look like charac- 
ters of fire traced on the dark vault of the heavens. 
What adds greatly to the effect, is the placid sur- 



284 



IL GIRANDOLA. 



face of the Tiber flowing beneath the walls. For 
some hundred yards the blue or crimson light 
is reflected upon the water, changing in hue and 
intensity every minute; at one time an apparent 
sheet of fire, at another the motion of the current 
giving it the appearance of infinite circles of flame. 

But the grandest display is reserved for the last. 
The top of the castle, which I may call the crater 
of the coming volcano, is filled with an amazing 
number of rockets and other projectiles : said to be 
worth some thousand scudu These at about 
eleven o'clock are launched from the summit into 
the mid air, while an explosion takes place from 
the same spot. The spectacle is magnificent, and 
during its continuation equals the eruption of a 
volcano, which I believe it is intended to represent. 
Ten thousand rockets enter on their airy course, 
traced as it is by a stream of light, when they one 
by one burst, scattering to the elements their star- 
like particles, and are succeeded by others to take 
the same flight. The base remains a mass of lurid 
fire, now for a moment slumbering, and suddenly 
shooting forth again with renewed and resistless 
force. The night behind looks black as ink, de- 
fining with the utmost precision each rocket and 
shooting flame. But probably the chief addition 



PICTURE IN THE FESCH GALLERY. 285 



to the effect is from the glassy stream of the Tiber. 
It reflects all the operations of the castle of St. 
Angelo in a thousand different hues, and looks like 
a broad path of light intersecting the city. The 
gleam, as the works proceed, runs upon the water 
with a rapidity which the eye can scarcely follow ; 
and on either side the bridge the spectacle seems 
renewed, illumining the whole way until it is lost in 
the curve of the river. The towers of some of the 
churches are revealed by the light, and the ma- 
jestic dome of St. Peter's rises out of the gloom 
like one of the Appenine summits descried at the 
morning dawn, ere the mists have rolled away. 

The people and the place formed just such a 
picture as would have been worthy the pencil of 
Gherardo de la Notte. The faces of every one 
had that glare imparted by the light which is 
so well expressed in the pictures of that painter. 
But probably the appearance of the Roman crowd 
on this occasion would have looked too unearthly, 
and might have suited better with some myste- 
rious subject or scene. The tints thrown by the 
flame upon the features reminded me strongly 
of Vaitrinck's superb painting in the Fesch gallery, 
which any one that has been fortunate enough to 
see can never forget. It is the Fhght into 



286 PUBLIC REPRESENTATIONS. 

Egypt. Joseph leads Mary and the heavenly 
child through a dark and trackless way, seated 
upon an ass, while an angel flies along, just above 
them, in an attitude of wonderful ease, holding 
in his hand, to guide them on their journey, a 
briUiant torch, the light from which falls upon 
the faces of all three, disclosing the beauty of the 
Virgin and the babe, and the fine Jewish cast 
of Joseph's headj giving to all an appearance 
perfectly life-like. 

The balance of probability would seem to rest 
in the opinion that these shows are provided by the 
Government, not for the amusement of the people 
alone, but also to engross that excess of spirits 
which might take a course prejudicial to the esta- 
blished order of things. This has ever been the 
policy of despotic governments, or where the chief 
power resides mostly with the crown. The atten- 
tion which might be given to plot and enterprise, 
like steam escaping from the safety-valve, is applied 
in another and by no means formidable direction. 
From these shows being annual, the people expect 
them, and anticipate them with pleasure. Such 
would seem also to be the object the emperors had 
in view in providing the expensive entertainments 
of the Colosseum. The hardy soldier and the 



THE CARNIVAL. 



287 



turbulent citizen were attracted to these fetes^ 
and in the excitement of the moment were dis- 
posed to forget the thirst of conquest and the 
desire of plunder, as well as to be less sensible of 
the dreams of freedom. Our Galilean neigh- 
bours also require some such amusements. The 
character of both these people is very different from 
the British, both being excitable and volatile in no 
small degree. These, or a direr alternative, emeutes^ 
become to them a necessary of life. To nature, 
as well as to our happy constitution, which secures 
sufficient liberty to every one, is to be ascribed the 
sober and grave demeanour of Englishmen. We 
may indulge the hope that they will continue to 
keep the spirit that may abound, only to preserve 
their fatherland, and to maintain their country's 
honour. 

The Carnival, as the name imports,* means a 
season dedicated more than usually to the use of 
flesh. It takes place in the week preceding Lent, 
when, in consideration of the abstinence that is to 
prevail, there is free liberty to eat, drink, and 
be merry, in the widest sense. The theatre of the 

* The word is formed of tlie Italian carn-a-vale, which Du Cange 
derives from carn-a-val, by reason the flesh then goes to the pot, to 
make amends for the season of abstinence ensuing. — Chambers' Dic- 
tionary. 



288 



THE CARNIVAL. 



week's amusement is the Corso, which in its entire 
length is given up to it. As in the case of some 
of the greater processions, business is at a stand ; 
the shops are converted into boxes, and every 
window, from which a view may be had, is tastefully 
arranged with carpets and drapery. These are let 
out, and, in some instances, produce a rich harvest 
to the proprietors. It may be well said that all 
the inhabitants of Rome are to be found in the 
Corso on these days. They are, however, a well- 
conducted mob ; and, owing to a plentiful sprinkling 
of military and police, no irregularity occurs. The 
clergy alone studiously stand aloof. They are 
never to be seen ; in which they act prudently, as 
the dress of some, the monks in particular, might 
cause them to be mistaken for a portion of the 
masquerade. 

The Carnival is under the especial care of the 
authorities. It is opened by the governor of Rome 
and the senator. They drive through the Corso 
in two of the most magnificent carriages I ever 
saw, attended by servants in the richest liveries ; 
after which formality the amusements begin. As 
great crowds are attracted to the Corso on these 
occasions, the jealous government betrayed their 
fears of popular movement by the strong force 



THE CARNIVAL. 



289 



of military that were posted along the line. In 
the Piazza Minganella, the Piazza della Posta, 
and the Piazza Venezia there could not have been 
less than several thousand men, well accoutred, and 
ready to act in case any " Viva constituziones'' 
should arise. The headsmen, ill-looking fellows 
enough, with their formidable axes, were quite 
sufficient of themselves to keep order. But, at the 
same time, the admirable bands of each regiment 
added greatly to the enjoyment of the day. 

Masks are worn in profusion, and dresses, no 
matter how grotesque, are met with at every step. 
Men change their sex and put on women's apparel ; 
and it is not unusual to see a gentle-dame with 
a beard that has not been shaven for a week, or a 
little abashed by a veritable moustache. Noses are 
worn, and, from the shape of these excrescences — 
imagination not nature being consulted — they give 
a truly ludicrous appearance to the wearers. Old 
women, with well starched caps and high-heeled 
shoes, are seen driving gentlemen's carriages, 
handling the whip with an energy quite foreign to 
an elderly female. Ladies sit in their vehicles, 
covering their dark Iresses with an artist's white 
cap, thrown judiciously on one side, or else clad in 
the quaint costume of bygone times. Some of the 

o 



290 



THE CARNIVAL. 



groups are excellent, both from the appearance they 
make, and from their characters being so well sus- 
tained. And then what adds a freshness to the 
whole scene is the universal spirit of good-humour 
which possesses all classes. Every one wears a 
smile, and seems delighted with the spectacle. 

There is, however, a great sameness in the way 
the Carnival is eked out. Two lines of carriages 
are formed in the Corso, one driving from the 
Flaminian obelisk, near the Porta del Popolo, to 
the Piazza Venezia, the other extremity of the 
street ; while the other line proceeds in the oppo- 
site direction. They thus at a slow pace consume 
the day. Every window as well as every carriage 
that passes is well supplied with the ammunition 
of the Carnival — bon-bons and comfits. When a 
carriage appears, the persons in the windows, per- 
haps, recognise some one, and a well-directed fire 
takes place, which, as in all engagements, is spirit- 
edly returned. The window being the vantage- 
ground, generally carries the day ; and the carriage 
is glad to make a rapid retreat, the ladies and gen- 
tlemen's dresses being well powdered with flour — 
not gunpowder, and it being a difficult matter to 
distinguish the colour of the carriage. The pedes- 
trian is not exempted from these salutes ; and fre- 



THE CARNIVAL. 



291 



quently he is well pelted by the fair but pitiless 
hand of some dark-eyed Italian. Carriages meet- 
ing each other also often make an attack. It is 
amusing to see them lying like vessels, deck to 
deck, the missiles of confectionary flying from one 
to the other like hail on a winter's day. It is often 
no easy matter to decide the victor ; but the usages 
of war do not apply here, as the foiled adversary 
retires with his chariot complete, and in the best 
humour. When bon-bons are exhausted, flour is 
used, which leaves the garments of the unlucky 
passengers in a truly pitiable condition. 

This puerile amusement is almost too much to 
last for a week ; the first and last days are the 
best, in the interim the excitement subsides. Upon 
the day that concludes the Carnival there is a slight 
variation. Every one appears at the approach of 
evening with a lighted taper, and endeavours most 
assiduously to extinguish that of every one else, 
and to preserve his own burning. Those who 
occupy the windows have also their wax tapers, so 
that at this period the city looks as if it were illu- 
minated; but, from the successful efforts to put them 
out, they diminish in number very quickly, and 
upon the lapse of half an hour the twilight finds the 
windows deserted, and the Corso almost empty. 

2 



292 



THE CARNIVAL. 



Rome during the Carnival is perfectly unlike 
itself. To see a city of churches and priests 
giving itself up for seven days to sports absolutely 
childish, agrees ill with the established order of 
things, and leaves one at a loss how to account for 
it. If the extravagant scene were enacted at Paris, 
it had been quite in keeping with the place and 
character of the people. But here in sober Rome, 
and under the eyes of the Pope, the stranger is 
astonished to find a large part of the population 
conducting themselves as if they acknowledged no 
restraint. I can understand the procession which 
often takes place in public, for religion is its 
ostensible object ; but the absurdities of the Carni- 
val are only the exhibition of Punch on a large 
scale, and very unsuitable, it would be thought, to 
a place which consults in everything the dignity of 
the Church. 

The period, too, is ill chosen — the week that 
ushers in Lent. Certainly the thoughts of the com- 
munity can dwell but little upon the abstinence or 
austerities of that holy season, while they have 
the days of the Carnival, with its exhibitions and 
its too probable immorality, to keep them engaged. 
No preparation could be worse for religious duty, 
and seems to be done in the spirit of those in 



THE CARNIVAL. 



293 



some countries, who provide a condemned crimi- 
nal, at the time just prior to punishment, with the 
most exquisite enjoyments, thinking his road will 
be lightened more by levity and luxury than by 
truer and more solid consolations. It is said that 
a crusade was some time ago preached against the 
Carnival, every priest setting his face against it ; 
but so undisguised was the hostility of the people 
to any movement of the sort, and so close their 
attachment to their periodical enjoyment, that it 
was considered prudent to abandon the attempt. 
Authority, it was judged, might prove ineffectual 
in such a case, and that it would be best to leave 
the matter to public opinion, which generally is 
found to abate whatever is inconsistent with the 
spirit of the times. 

There can be but little doubt that the Carnival 
is the remains of an old Roman custom which has 
been handed down from age to age, its origin 
being forgotten or clouded in obscurity. It is not 
improbable that it is the Saturnalia. Many of the 
characters which marked it are common to the 
Carnival. There is the same freedom, and the 
same love of mirth. Their duration, also, is alike 
— seven days. The Saturnalia took place in De- 
cember; but it WHS an easy matter to alter to 



294 



THE CARNIVAL. 



February the time of their celebration. The heads 
of the Church may originally have thrown no op- 
position in the way of its observance, particularly 
as the Roman people were called upon to forego 
the objectionable Bacchanalia, as well as the bar- 
barous shows and combats of the Colosseum. It 
will be thus no honour to the Pope and cardinals 
that they foster in their bosom a pagan custom. 

Some would have it that it is self-interest that 
reconciles the Government to the buffoonery of the 
Carnival, as it tends greatly to support the city by 
the influx of strangers from all parts of Italy. But 
we should not hastily believe that such a motive 
would afford sufficient reason for the protection 
or forbearance of the Government. 



MODERN ROME. 



295 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

MODERN ROME. POPULATION OF ANCIENT ROME. — MALARIA. 

PINCIAN HILL. THE CORSO. — PALACES. — EGYPTIAN OBELISKS. 

OSTENTATION OF THE POPES. MARKETS. FOUNTAINS. — THE 

TIBER. THE CAPITOL. FORUM. ARCH OF CONSTANTINE. 

ARCH OP TITUS. — TEMPLES. — CONVENTS. — CONCLUSION, 

Modern Rome occupies but a small portion of 
the original city ; it may be a fifth that is enclosed 
by the wall which still remains, though it is diffi- 
cult upon this subject to speak with absolute cer- 
tainty. The present city touches the wall only at 
the north, where it declines to the Tiber, but in 
some other points it does not approach nearer to 
it than two miles, the intervening space being 
mostly filled with vineyards or villas of the Roman 
nobles, which generally have ample grounds and 
gardens attached. The city is chiefly confined 
to the banks of the Tiber, which runs through it, 
but it is far larger and more populous on the north- 
east side. This is the quarter upon which stand 
the Forum, the Colosseum, and the palace of the 



296 



MODERN ROME. 



Caesars, as well as the chief monuments of Rome. 
Upon the opposite side lies the chief attraction of 
the modern city, the church of St. Peter. 

There is a general aspect of desolation as soon 
as the frequented streets are left. You do not 
find yourself in the country, but amongst old walls 
covered with ferns and weeds, and crumbling into 
further ruin. Lofty gateways, retaining in the 
centre a mask or head, coarsely carved, and some- 
times an inscription, remain in considerable num- 
ber, leading no more to a sumptuous building, but 
serving as the entrance to a field planted with a 
few vines and reeds. Many an old pile meets the 
view ; broken arches and prostrate towers, in many 
cases so dismantled as to be subjects of but little 
interest. The capitals of columns, friezes and 
entablatures, are of frequent occurrence. Almost 
every stone you tread on has its tale to tell, having 
been once in use : nullum est sine nomine saxum^ 
The peasants, meanly clad and few in number, 
enter the city, or return from market; while on 
the paved highways a few cars roll lazily along ; or 
a cardinal's carriage makes its appearance, the 
high colours of both it and the rider contrasting 
sadly with the graver hues which overspread the 
neighbourhood. 



POPULATION OF OLD ROME. 297 

It has been questioned, whether the population 
that has been assigned to the palmy days of Rome 
could have lived within the walls. I am inclined 
to think that this opinion has been formed without 
duly considering the habits of the people, at least 
so far as we can judge of them by their successors. 
Independently of the houses being lofty and com- 
modious, they generally accommodate four or five 
families. Each family occupies one tier of apart- 
ments, and are numbered primo piano ^ secundo, ter- 
tio^ &c. In very few instances is one house appro- 
priated to a single possessor. Thus, at least four 
families would have inhabited the space which 
in London is only sufficient for one. 

In their private houses their chambers appear to 
have been on a very small scale, as we see them at 
Pompeii, and that in the best houses; they could 
have been very little larger than the bed that occu- 
pied them. They spent but little of their time at 
home. The ample chambers of the baths served 
to collect the people together, not only for the 
sake of ablution, but for amusement and conver- 
sation also. The artisan probably worked at his 
trade in the open air, as many do at present in 
that mild climate, satisfied with the shelter and 
comfort of a roof only at night. 

5 



298 POPULATION OF OLD ROME. 



In further proof of the city of Rome having con- 
tained the inhabitants ascribed to it by old authors, 
we are to recollect that almost the whole space 
circumscribed by the walls was occupied by houses. 
The open spaces or squares seem to have been 
few, and contracted in extent. The Forum Tra- 
janum remains just as it was in the days of the 
emperor whose name it bears. It is little more 
than half the extent of Trafalgar Square. The 
Forum at the slope of the Capitol, no doubt , the 
largest open spot in the old city, if we take the 
dimensions from the temple of Jupiter Stator and 
the arch of Severus, on to the triumphal arch of 
Titus and the temple dedicated to Faustina, will 
not be found larger than one of our modern 
squares. Yet this is 

" The forum, where the immortal accents glow, 
And still the eloquent air breathes — burns with Cicero." 

The temples were both numerous and magnifi- 
cent, but the houses of the inhabitants, probably, 
were as closely attached to them as the mean 
dwellings of the moderns are to the palaces of the 
present nobility. It must have been an immense city 
when the streets were crowded with houses from 
the Porta Lorenzo to the Ostia Gate — from the 
Porta del Popolo to that of San Giovanni in Late- 



SUPPLY OF WATER. 



299 



rano. Although the Romans indulged to excess 
in the luxuries of living and dress, they had not 
acquired the taste for suites of apartments. In this 
respect utility alone was their object, not ostenta- 
tion. Hence, if their descendants have handed 
down to us their modes of living, which there seems 
no reason to controvert, the city of Rome would 
have contained as great a number of inhabitants as 
a modern city four times its extent. 

The houses of Rome are well and durably built, 
but they lose greatly in appearance by being roofed 
with red tiles. Very little wood enters into their 
composition. The stairs are always of coarse black 
stone or marble ; the chambers, also, being covered 
with flat tiles of various patterns. They must be 
much less liable to fire than ours, and, for the sake 
of this advantage, we should do well to imitate them. 
A fire might be kindled upon any part of the stairs 
without any fear of injury. Accidents by fire are, 
in consequence, almost unknown. 

Nothing can be better than the supply of water ; 
a stream is brought by pipes to every house, 
which flows into a capacious cistern, that is com- 
mon to all the families in possession. The method 
of supplying the several apartments is very simple, 
but peculiar to this city. A strong iron wire de- 



300 



MALARIA. 



scends from the window of each ^^piano^^ exactly 
into the cistern ; upon this the vessel for drawing 
the water traverses. It runs down by its own 
gravity, and is drawn up again with the greatest 
ease by a rope and pulley. 

The ascent of some forty of these stone steps to 
the apartments is a work of regular labour, and 
very unlike the ease with which the parlour and 
drawing-room are entered at home. Rooms on 
the ground-floor are always considered unhealthy, 
from deleterious exhalations which more or less 
prevail throughout the year. It is the evil spirit 
of malaria, which dwells in the Eternal City. The 
palaces are all strongly vaulted underneath, and the 
free exit and entry of air allowed ; in consequence 
of which the first floor is frequently ten feet from 
the ground. Malaria is not much felt during the 
winter months, but in summer it is very active, 
causing fevers in great abundance. It is not ne- 
cessarily confined to the least cleanly or narrow 
parts of the city, for the Ghetto, although the nar- 
rowest and filthiest, is generally exempt from its 
visitations. Malaria, however, be it owing to what 
cause it may, is giving way before sanatory regu- 
lations. The streets are now kept properly 
cleaned, and Rome is no longer a disgrace, by the 



PIAZZA DI SPAGNA. 



301 



offensive filth which was suffered a few years ago to 
accumulate in every place. The supply of water is 
of great use in carrying off vegetable and animal 
matter, and latterly the Government has forbid the 
butcher to kill his beasts in the city — a wise pre- 
caution, as the offal of the slaughter-house could 
not be otherwise than prejudicial to the public 
health in the warm climate of Rome. 

The part of the city usually inhabited by the 
English is the highest and best that could be 
selected. The Piazza di Spagna is an open space, 
having the best hotels to be found at Rome ; the 
promenade of the Pincian hill being within the 
reach of a few yards. None of those lanes, shock- 
ing by their appearance and effluvia, are in the 
neighbourhood, and it is a considerable distance 
from the muddy stream of the Tiber, which is no 
doubt an advantage. The Via Barberino, one of 
the best streets, leads directly through the Porta del 
Popolo to the agreeable drive of the Borghese 
Gardens, or to the Flaminian Way. The Via 
Condotti, the great mart for pictures and mosaics, 
joins it to the Corso ; while the Strada di due 
Marcelli conducts the tourist either to the open 
country through the different gates, or invites his 
steps to the wonders of the Forum. 



302 



THE PINCIAN HILL. 



A pleasant road has been constructed on the 
Pincian hill. It is about an English mile in 
length. It is kept in the best order, and is taste- 
fully planted. As it is higher than the roofs of the 
houses, the view of the city is the best that can be 
had. The eye strays over a large mass of buildings, 
containing little either novel or interesting. The 
tiles give an old and dingy appearance to every- 
thing. Numberless are the domes and towers of 
the churches. But in the distance, far above all, 
arise majestically the graceful proportions of St. 
Peter's. The situation has been well chosen, upon 
an eminence, just sufficient to display its beauties, 
— not to make them too prominent. It is free, too, 
from the fault which attaches to almost all the 
public buildings in the Eternal City — that they 
are crowded by mean hovels. The pillars of 
Trajan and Antonine rear their elegant figures 
into the tranquil air, bearing St. Peter and St. 
Paul, who have long since dispossessed the impe- 
rial occupants. The keys in St. Peter's hands, 
the chosen emblem of Roman power, can be plainly 
seen. Some glimpses of the Tiber are caught, 
but they add nothing to the landscape. At the 
back of St. Peter's the forms of some hills are 
spread, which obstruct any further view. 



THE CORSO. 



303 



The Pincian is the place to see Roman life 
upon Sundays or the gala-days of the Church. A 
great number of equipages congregate there. The 
prevailing taste is that of the cardinal — their livery 
and coaches vieing with his gaudy hues. A long 
string is formed, where you can observe the several 
gradations of Roman nobility. They move along 
at a funeral's pace, while the occupants enjoy 
the warm sunshine and talk over the news of 
the day. 

Upon these occasions the ladies display their 
charms to the best advantage ; I, however, can 
say but little for the beauty of the Italian women. 
It is, no doubt, hard to please an Englishman, his 
eye being accustomed to such perfect standards at 
home. The Roman ladies err on the side of em- 
bonpoint. Their eyes are dark, but neither their 
complexion nor their features seemed peculiarly 
striking. I saw one handsome woman, but subse- 
quently found that this was no exception to the 
general rule, as her birth-place was England, hav- 
ing been some time before united to a Roman 
nobleman. 

The principal street is the Via del Corso. It runs 
parallel with the Tiber, and is almost the whole 
length of the city on the north bank. Much 



304 THE CORSO. 

higher opinions are foraied of it than it deserves ; 
it is scarcely so wide as the Strand at its nar- 
rowest part. The shops here are the best in 
Rome ; but the business and commerce of the city 
are very circumscribed ; they do not surpass 
those of a good country town in England. The 
only activity that trade exhibits is in the sale of 
pictures and mosaics and other works of art. 
From the excellence that the inhabitants have 
attained in these departments, native talent is 
altogether directed to them, and a ready market 
is always at hand. There are no manufactories; 
the various wants of the populace are therefore 
supplied from other sources. The people have an 
air of listlessness, and are clearly indisposed to an 
active life— faults engendered not so much by 
their own natural habits or tastes, as called into 
being by the reprehensible policy which rules the 
affairs of the Church. They themselves set an 
example of indolence, and assign half the week to 
the anniversaries of saints, which produces its cer- 
tain effects among all classes of society. 

The Corso contains many fine palaces, the chief 
of which are the Palazzo Borghese and Doria. The 
first is very extensive, and, taking its many suites of 
apartments and its rich decorations into account, 



PALACES. 



305 



would not be unsuitable for a crowned head. Its 
gallery of pictures and statues is one of the best. 
The possessor is an enlightened man, who takes 
pleasure in opening his salons^ not only to the 
inspection of the public, but for the instruction of 
those artists, foreign as well as native, who have 
made the arts their profession. The gallery con- 
tains many deservedly esteemed pictures, among 
which are the Sybil" of Domenichino, a "Cruci- 
fixion" by Vandyke, as well as a host of others by 
all the great masters. 

The Doria palace is of a different construction. 
Its appearance is light arid elegant ; it is also a 
considerable building, and contains a gallery rich 
in works of art. There are here some superb 
landscapes of Claude Lorraine and of Poussin. 
The pictures of Rome are not usually of this class, 
so that on that account they are well worthy 
inspection. 

Palaces abound ; there is hardly a street with- 
out one or two — according to the wealth or taste 
of the proprietor, an improvement or a disgrace 
to the neighbourhood. The Palazzo Farnese 
is a very fine square structure ; but one views it 
with less pleasure, as it is mostly constructed with 
the pillage of the rich remains of antiquity. It 



306 



EGYPTIAN OBELISKS. 



now belongs to the King of Naples, and his repre- 
sentative at the Papal court resides in it. The 
Palazzo Barberini, placed in a commanding posi- 
tion near the Quirinal palace, possesses an im- 
posing and elegant front terminating in two wings. 
It is a noble edifice for a private individual ; but 
the head of the house is guilty of a heavy sin, 
which, in the opinion of the lovers of art at least, 
the absolution of all the churches of Rome cannot 
wash out. It is notorious that it has been exclu- 
sively built with stones taken from the Colosseum. 

The Egyptian obelisks, which are found in 
various quarters of the' city, serve greatly, by the 
interest that attaches to them, as well as by their 
own positive beauty, to adorn the city. There are 
no less than twelve, all carried from vanquished 
Egypt, as the trophies of conquest, by the proud 
commanders of the Mistress of the World. They 
are quadrilateral, and formed of one block of red 
stone — I conclude, granite of a fine grain. They 
are generally covered with hieroglyphics, the cut- 
ting of which is as sharp and fresh at the present 
day as it was 3000 years ago. 

During the calamities of the city these obelisks 
were thrown down and much injured. Some were 
broken into several pieces. To Sixtus V. and 



OBELISKS. 



307 



Pius VL chiefly we are indebted for their restora- 
tion. The largest is opposite the church of St. 
John Lateran's. It stands before the north portico, 
where it was placed a. d. 1588, in the pontificate 
of Sixtus V. It formerly stood in the Circus 
Maximus, where it had been erected by the Empe- 
ror Cons tan tins. It is perhaps the largest in the 
world. When placed on its present pedestal, from 
its injured state, it was necessary to take off four 
palms. Notwithstanding, the whole height, with 
pedestal and ornaments at the top, is about 150 feet. 
The total weight of the shaft is about 445 tons. 

Gibbon remarks concerning this obelisk, " Seve- 
ral of these extraordinary columns had been trans- 
ported to Rome by Augustus and his successors, 
as the most durable monuments of their power 
and victory ; but there remained one obelisk, 
which, from its size or sanctity, escaped for a long 
time the rapacious vanity of the conquerors. It 
was designed by Constantino to adorn his new 
city ; and after being removed by liis order from 
the pedestal where it stood, before the temple of 
the sun at Heliopolis, was floated down the Nile 
to Alexandria. The death of Constantino sus- 
pended the execution of his purpose, and this 
obelisk was destined by his son to the ancient 



808 



OBELISKS. 



capital of the empire. A vessel of uncommon 
strength and capaciousness was provided to convey 
this enormous weight of granite, at least an hun- 
dred and fifteen feet in length, from the banks of 
the Nile to those of the Tiber. The obelisk of 
Constantius was landed about three miles from the 
city, and elevated by the efforts of art and labour 
in the great circus of Rome." 

It is indeed a magnificent monument, and a suit- 
able gift from the Roman emperor to the Roman 
people. It cannot be viewed without calling to 
mind the genius and skill of the great people who 
inhabited the banks of the Nile, or, acknowledging 
the prowess of the Roman hosts, who embarked in 
unceasing toil, until they deposited their precious 
freight in the seven-hilled city. It bears upon one 
side the name of Constantino. 

There is a beautiful obelisk on the Monte 
Citorio. It is that which Augustus set up as a 
sun-dial in the Campus Martins. It bears the 
following inscription : — 

IMP. CAESAR. DIVI. F. 

AVGVSTVS, 
PONTIFEX MAXIMVS, 
IMP. XIII. COS. XI. TRIB. POT. XIV. 
AEGYPTO IN POTESTATEM 
POPVLI ROMANI REDACTA, 
SOLI DONVM DEDIT. 



OBELISKS. 



309 



It was placed in its present position in the 
eighteenth year of Pius VI. The whole height, 
with its pedestal, is 110 feet. It was, when found, 
much damaged, having been broken into four 
pieces. The proportions of this work of Egyp- 
tian art are considered to be the best of any of 
those to be found at Rome. The position it occu- 
pies is also high and commanding. 

There is another large obelisk in the open space 
near the Porta del Popolo, called the Flaminian. 
This, as the inscription declares, was presented to 
the Roman people by Augustus, Pontifex Maxi- 
mus. While on another side, one of the Popes, 
Sixtus v., has, in wretched taste, inscribed his own 
name, with the addition of " Pontifex Maximus" 
also ; announcing that it has been rededicated, and 
the stain it acquired from " impure superstition" 
wiped away. The whole height is about 116 feet. It 
was broken in three places. A fine fountain flows 
at its base, the water of which is guarded by two 
sphinxes. 

Another large obelisk stands in the centre of 
the amphitheatre opposite St. Peter's. Caligula 
brought this obelisk to Rome, by whom it was 
erected in the Vatican circus. It was removed 
into its present position by Fontana, the architect 



310 



OSTENTATION OF 



of Sixtus V. The whole height, with pedestal 
and cross at the summit, is 132 feet. It had been 
thrown down like the rest and injured, but was, 
as I have remarked, subsequently restored. This 
obelisk is formed of a single block, and possesses 
no hieroglyphics. The same feeling operated with 
Sixtus. His name stands inscribed upon the 
monument. His overweening vanity induced him 
to place it there. 

Ostentation is the besetting sin of the Popes. 
Afraid, it is but too probable^ that they shall build 
up no structure of fame which shall hand down 
their names to posterity, they seize every oppor- 
tunity of placing it before the public, and do not 
at all regard the injury they inflict upon the 
national monuments by so doing.* The juxta- 
position of a Sixtus and a Caesar looks something 
more than ridiculous. Does not the attempt savour 
something of the frog and the ox in the fable ? In 
the same spirit we find a marble tablet announcing 
in large letters that a Pope has repaired an arch 
of the great aqueduct, or rendered the Pincian 
hill an agreeable promenade. He had been a very 
unwise prince if he suffered the supply of the 

* This remark would apply more to the Flaminian than the Vati- 
can obelisk, where Augustus occupies one side, and Sixtus the other. 



THE POPES. 



811 



acqua felice^^ to be diminished. The parading of 
his name upon the work might seem to favour the 
opinion that he was a misanthrope, and that this 
act was the exception to the general rule. But 
the Pope's designation there, at all events, will not 
be able to hide the fact from the world, that this 
great and useful work is essentially Roman, and 
belongs to the times of the emperors, not to his. 

This ostentation has also made its way into the 
museums. There are many vases and statues 
which have a scroll attached to them, with the 
words " Munificentia Pii Sexti^^^ &c. ; and in some 
cases, with more modesty, we find the gift recorded 
by a simple " Cura Clementis^^ &c. 

I observed a well supplied market to be held 
in the street opposite the Pantheon. Among the 
usual supplies of meat and fowl generally found 
in such places, a wild boar occasionally appeared, 
with which some of the nobility might make a feast 
in imitation of that of Horace. But a strange 
addition to the table was sometimes offered for sale 
— a porcupine. This, I understand, is the ne plus 
ultra of a Roman delicacy — the very dish for a 
cardinal's feast when he entertains the magnates of 
the land. It should be dressed with the quills on, 
if only to illustrate Shakspeare's simile, when the 



312 



FOUNTAINS. 



uiiearthly visitant's disclosures to Hamlet threaten 
to make 

" each particular hair to stand on end, 
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine." 

The city of Rome derives not the least of its 
ornaments from the number and variety of its 
fountains. From the aqueducts, that pour their 
liquid streams in great profusion from the sur- 
rounding hills, the supply of water is not only 
sufficient for the city, but also to keep these re- 
freshing fountains in continual play. The largest 
and most beautiful is the Fontana di Frevi, erected 
at the end of the Stamp-Office. There are several 
characteristic groups in marble. From beneath 
some artificial rocks the water bursts with wild 
force, and rolls into an ample basin in front. The 
murmuring of the water has a very grateful effect, 
situated as it is amid the bustle and in the centre 
of the city. The water is as clear as crystal, and 
as cool as the "fons Brandusia^' which Horace 
celebrates. Amid the summer heats the freshness 
imparted to the air from the neighbourhood must 
be in the highest degree grateful. 

There is a handsome fountain opposite the 
church of St. Bruno, which jets forth the water of 



FOUNTAINS. 



813 



the acquafelice, Moses is represented in alto-relievo, 
in the act of striking the rock, as the children of 
Israel murmured for the refreshing streams. In 
obedience to his word it gushes wildly at his feet. 

In the centre of the Piazza di Spagna stands a 
fountain of a novel but interesting design. In the 
centre of an oval basin is a Roman galley, be- 
neath whose rising stern and bows the foaming 
current dashes with considerable force. She looks 
like a trireme ascending the Tiber, proudly im- 
pelled by her rowers, fresh from naval conquest. 

The Piazza Navona is ornamented by a very 
large fountain. In the centre of the basin stands 
an obelisk; around the base are grouped four 
spirited human figures, representing the four great 
rivers, beneath each of which a large volume of 
water takes its course. This fountain is the work 
of Bernini. 

There is nothing in Rome that disappoints one 
more than the Tiber. From its being connected 
so much with classic story, we picture to ourselves 
a broad and rapid stream, reflecting the deep blue 
sky, and rolhng its limpid waters to the sea. 
The river is narrow, and sunk in its bed like a 
ditch. Its waters are of a deep muddy colour; its 
banks teem with filth, and I should as soon use the 

p 



314 



THE TIBER. 



water of a sewer. It was well that it was night 
when Horace gives the direction, 

" Teruncti 

Transnanto Tiberim, somno quibus est opus alto;" 

as at any other time I think it doubtful if any one 
could be prevailed upon to do so. The bridge of 
St. Angelo, formerly the Pons ^^lius, crosses it, 
and leads to the Vatican. It is wide and solid, 
and is adorned by several statues. The other 
bridges possess little beauty. 

A few decked boats trade from Ostia to the out- 
skirts ; and a couple of steamers, about as large as 
those plying on the Thames with passengers, consti- 
tute the only vessels on its surface. A novel mode 
for taking fish may daily be seen here. Four bag 
nets are placed upon poles, crossing at right angles. 
This is placed so that it revolves like a mill by the 
current, and in its revolution, if it has captured a 
" mullus trilibris^'^ or any other of the scaly tribe, 
it is so arranged as to cast it into a boat that lies 
beside. 

The ferry-boat of the Tiber is also curious in 
its way, and worth notice. A strong rope reaches 
across the river, and is firmly attached to either 
wall ; upon this a pully is managed to traverse, 



THE CAPITOL, 



315 



from which there is a rope to the front of the boat. 
When the Charon of the Tiber wishes to cross 
with his Hving freight, he merely tarns the bow in 
that direction, retaining the boat in her position by 
a large rudder. The force of the current upon the 
side is the moving power. Without a pole or oar 
she glides rapidly across, and the pulley steadily 
advances along the larger rope as if it were driven 
by some invisible agency. " II capitano'^ takes a 
baioccOf and, as you take your seat, politely bids you 
a Buono giorno^ signorer 

The Capitol, or, as it is called, // Campidoglio^ lies 
at the south-west end of the city. This famous 
hill has but a small elevation, but it is probable 
that the valley on either side has risen by the 
accumulated rubbish of centuries. The ambitious 
summit was considered a good site for a church ; 
accordingly that of Ara Coeli has been erected 
there, and is approached by a dizzy flight of steps. 
Another part contains the palace appropriated to il 
senatore^ an honourable oflicer of the government. 
The museum of the Capitol is also here, full of the 
choice remains of antiquity ; opposite to which is 
the picture-gallery, containing neither a very ex- 
tensive nor varied collection. Guercino's greatest 
work is here, "L'Ensevelissement de St. Petronille," 



316 



THE FORUM. 



a painting larger than the " Transfiguration/' It is 
marked by that master's distinctive excellence. 
The figures at the burial have the indications of 
emotion indelibly stamped upon them. The colour- 
ing is strong and expressive, every part marked by 
the bold touches which discover the pencil of 
Guercino. 

In the centre of the open space on the summit 
stands a fine bronze equestrian figure of Marcus 
Aurelius. The horse is very spirited, and is said 
to have obtained the warm eulogiums of Michael 
Angelo. It is the most perfect equestrian statue 
that remains, and has so much value attached to it, 
that an especial officer is appointed for its care, 
called " il custode di cavallo.^^ 

Immediately as you descend to the west, the 
" eloquent Forum" bursts upon the view. It is the 
site of the senate-house — that intellect which for 
ages conquered and governed the world, gave away 
crowns and dethroned kings, and exercised so 
great an influence upon the happiness and fortunes 
of all people, from the Tiber to the Borysthenes — 
from the northern boundary of Britain to the Pil- 
lars of Hercules. It is the place where Tully pro- 
nounced his indignant oration against Catiline — 
and where the patriotic Cato was wont to address 



THE FORUM. 



817 



the assembled fathers, full of the spirit of freedom. 
Here kings sued for their sceptres, or princes 
petitioned for aid. Time has not only broken up 
the senate, but no stone remains to attest the site 
of the palladium of freedom. It has frowned 
darkly upon the buildings of the spot, effaced some 
from the scene, and its hand is still at work upon 
the monuments which remain. It has half buried 
the arch of Septimius Severus, as if we had arrived 
at a new era, that was ashamed of the institutions 
which had given it birth — war, rapine, and blood.* 
The temples are not spared ; time has profaned 
their sacredness. Its fingers have been busy in 

* " But the gigantic grasp of Roman ambition comprehended the 
most powerful of the earth, and made them drink deep of degradation. 
The usual lot of prisoners of war was slavery — a practice bad enough, 
but common to the rest of antiquity with Rome ; the institution of 
triumphs is her peculiar glory and distinction. Something may be 
said in palliation of a victor, who, having possession of his enemy, 
obviates the danger of further resistance or revolt, by committing him 
to that narrow prison from which alone there is no chance of escape. 
But when a Roman general's arms were crowned with success, the 
prisoners of highest estimation were carefully reserved; and when all 
danger from their life was at an end, and their degradation, as far as 
external circumstances can degrade, was complete, after they had 
been led in chains before their conqueror's car, to swell his vanity and 
to satiate the pride of Rome, they were sent to perish, unheeded and 
unlamented, by the hands of the executioner, and the thanksgiving 
due to the gods and the triumphal banquet were delayed until the 
savage ritual was duly performed. ' Those even who triumph, and 

p a 



318 



THE FORUM. 



overthrowing their altars, and stretching upon their 
roofs and pillars the mantle of green weeds, which 
is the favourite attire of ruin. Two or three 
columns and many a stone," still in their decay 
eminently beautiful, convey the idea of their pre- 
sent situation. How forcibly do they appeal to 
the mind, and array our feelings in their be- 
half, sympathising with their fallen state ! How 
full of contemplation they are, bringing back 
things fraught with interest, but forgotten ! 
Once the seats of pomp and pride, their sun has 
gone down, and left the walls involved in im- 
penetrable darkness. Where are the crowds that 

therefore grant longer life to the hostile chiefs, that from their pre- 
sence in the procession the Roman people may derive its fairest 
spectacle and fruit of victory, yet bid them to be led to prison when 
they begin to turn their chariots from the Forum to the Capitol ; and 
the same day puts an end to the conqueror's command and to the life 
of the conquered.' — In Verrem, act ii. lib. v. 30. They led the pri- 
soners to execution at the moment when the triumphal chariot began 
to ascend the Capitoline hill, in order, they said, that their moment 
of highest exultation might be that of their enemies' extremest agony. 
There is a needless barbarity and insolence in the whole proceeding 
which, is peculiarly disgusting, and which was aggravated by the 
solemnn hypocrisy of placing in the triumphal chariot a slave to 
whisper .in the victor's ear, * Remember that thou art a man,' when, 
in the same instant, they displayed so signal a disregard for the 
reverses to which humanity is exposed, and such contempt for the 
lessons which that warning ought to have taught." — Historical 
Parallels^ vol. i.. Library of Entertaining Knowledge. 



ARCH OF CONST ANTINE. 



319 



visited them? Where is the priest? where the 
sacrifices covered with spotless garlands? where 
is the mingled acclaim of populace and priest? 
Upon all another day has arisen: the worshiper 
and the idols have gone : they are now the sanc- 
tuary of silence. 

A little further on the cold grey wall of the Co- 
losseum arises, exhibiting to the view that portion 
which has been honoured by time, and spared by 
the hand of the domestic barbarian. Its arches, 
although massive, appear light and beautiful, and 
are uniform, like a succession of casts from the same 
mould. Its form is sternly raised above the sur- 
rounding buildings, in different stages of decay, as 
if it felt a certain pride in successfully resisting the 
influences which have dismantled them. It is Hke 
the old oak of the forest, the last of the giant 
brood, with its black trunk and extended branches, 
which, while the storm has swept the rest to the 
earth, lifts itself amid the desolation. 

A little further to the right the eye catches the 
triumphal arch of Constantino, almost as perfect 
at the present day as when it was first erected to 
commemorate the emperor's campaigns. The 
figure of the ancient triumphal arch is very beau- 
tiful. It is a detached building, consisting of a 



320 



ARCH OF TITUS. 



central arch, and one of inferior dimensions on 
either side ; above which, but preserving the most 
exact proportions, rises the entablature. It is 
generally profusely ornamented either with statues 
or basso-relievos, the subject recording the con- 
quests of the victor. The melancholy captive, 
dragged from his mountain home to gratify the 
Roman populace, stands copied in the marble, 
while the heavy chains attest his wretched for- 
tunes. We have figures of the Roman soldier, 
presenting to our view their muscular limbs and 
arms, and giving fair ideas of that energy which 
invaded and vanquished the less hostile kingdoms 
of Europe. They are replete, also, w^ith the im- 
plements and engines of war. The victor is mostly 
represented on the interior of the arch, attended 
by the chained victims to ambition and the spoils 
of battle — the best representation, probably, that 
remains of the triumph that was wont, in the days 
of Roman greatness, to ascend the Capitol. 
. Much nearer, and raised above the road that led 
from the Forum to the Colosseum, stands the isolated 
arch of Titus. This has suffered considerably, the 
figures having been injured either wantonly or by the 
atmosphere. The arch is not so large as that of Con- 
stantino, but its proportions are very elegant. To 



ARCH OF TITUS. 321 

it also the greatest interest attaches, as it was built 
to <;ommemorate Titus's subjugation of Judeea and 
the destruction of Jerusalem. The ornaments 
raised on the interior of the arch are the most 
wonderful that can be well conceived. There 
remains, copied in the stone, the sacred furniture of 
the temple of David. The emperor is represented 
triumphing, and the mystical vessels which were 
used in the service of Jehovah are carried in his 
train. The ark of the covenant is borne by the 
soldiers ; and conspicuous appears what was made 
by express Divine direction, the sevenfold candle- 
stick. 

It is impossible to contemplate these objects 
without a feeling of awe ; we are, as it were, 
brought into the presence of those objects which 
ministered to the worship of God within the con- 
fines of one nation, while all others were in total 
darkness as to religious truth. And yet here we 
behold the emblems of his nature proudly carried 
to swell the triumph, and to add to the honour of a 
pagan prince, — a spectacle regarded, no doubt, by 
the clamorous crowd as a defeat sustained by the 
God of the Jews at the hands of their numerous 
deities. But how little claim had they to that feel- 
ing ! As well might the earthquake or the pesti- 



322 TEMPLES. 

lence, instruments which Providence sometimes 
uses in furtherance of its wise but inscrutable de- 
signs, lay claim to the work that they had done. The 
Romans were the instruments of Jewish punish- 
ment, and without their knowledge were fulfilling 
the page of prophecy. Theirs were " the eagles" 
that stooped to prey on the spoil of Judaea. The 
honour of that Being who presided equally over 
Gentile and Jew suffered nothing by such a scene, 
however the hearts of the sons of Jacob may have 
mourned, and their sighs have been as numerous as 
the willow leaves dropped upon the plain at the chill 
approach of autumn* At the advent of the Mes- 
siah the service of the Jewish temple was neces- 
sarily at an end. The types or shadows were no 
longer useful when the Being that was prefigured 
was come. They were the instruments of God's 
ordinances heretofore, and might be lawfully laid 
aside. This the Divine counsels thought necessary 
to put into execution by the strong hand of power, 
when that people, the objects of its protection for 
so many ages, relied upon them after their virtue 
was gone, and rejected the all-important revelation 
made for the benefit of mankind. 

Some of the temples of the Forum remain to us 
still, having been long since converted into 



CONVENTS. 



823 



churches. The temple dedicated by the servile 
senate to the wife of Marcus Antoninus preserves 
much of its form in its Christian application, and 
upon the front the words " DivcB Faustince'^ remain, 
in nowise injured by time. How little she de- 
served this honour the voice of history plainly 
tells ; an asylum would have been more suitable to 
her than a temple. The morals of the people must 
have been at a low ebb at the period, and the 
canker, from which may be dated the decline of 
the empire, had made its way already into the 
heart of society. 

Upon the site of the temple of Romulus and 
Remus a church has arisen. The place where 
St. Peter and St. Paul are said to have been im- 
prisoned is also similarly commemorated. The 
church is small, but it is always crowded with 
votaries. 

Several convents have been erected in or near 
the Forum. The monks are seen walking indo- 
lently along, characterised by their various habits. 
We might imagine them pilgrims of the genius of 
the old city, their loose dress being not unlike the 
toga. The contemplative mind, as it is full of the 
interest kindled by the spot, is frequently arrested 
in its occupation by the convent bell, calling the 



324 



CONCLUDING REMARKS. 



inmates to prayer. As its sound rolls unimpeded 
through the arches of the Colosseum, and along 
the empty halls of the palace of the Caesars, it is, as 
it were, their knell, asserting by its iron tongue the 
dominion of religion over the countless altars and 
aisles now lowly humbled before the spirit of 
truth. 

Such is the Roman Forum now ! In human 
things there are several stages ; it has passed that 
of decline, and is now in decay. The time may 
not be far distant when even fewer memorials of 
the consular or imperial days shall remain, and 
nothing but its name serve to identify the spot. 
Empires and their institutions are like human life; 
they have their youth, their manhood, and their 
prime ; and when they have reached this, the seeds 
of change still shew themselves, and they go down 
the steep, perhaps as rapidly as they rose. They, 
too, shew " second childhood,'' and imbecihty pre- 
cipitates their doom. The old age of Rome was 
as destitute of strength as of counsel, and her vices 
adhered to her while her physical energy had gone. 
Although she did much to accelerate her fall, it 
may be mostly attributable to that in stabiHty which 
is inherent in all earthly things. Kingdoms are 
not permanent. Although built up by wisdom 



CONCLUDING REMARKS. 



S25 



gathered from every source, the history of the 
world records their rise and fall. The sites of 
powerful cities become a matter of doubtj and 
dynasties, whose dominion at one period reached 
from sea to sea, exist only in name. There 
is nothing eternal but truth ! The efforts of the 
greatest minds gradually fade. The law of change 
and dissolution, that governs every moving thing, 
extends its influence upon their works. The crea- 
tions of arbitrary power^ or of a spirit instigated by 
renown, resist in vain the action of the elements 
and of time. The monuments of greatness are 
like those of the dead, serving their purpose for 
awhile, but sure to be broken and obliterated at 
last But truth is permanent stilly and an over- 
ruling Providence attests itself, while the power of 
the great Being, who regulates all things, remains 
always the same, and is brought home in every 
age, to every heart. 



THE 



END. 



LONDON : 

Pi'intcd by S. Sc J. }3entley, V/ilson, and Fley, 
Bangor House, Shoo Lane. 



